


Foretold

by PotionChemist, smithandbarrowman



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Prophecy, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:21:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27412630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PotionChemist/pseuds/PotionChemist, https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithandbarrowman/pseuds/smithandbarrowman
Summary: Sybill Trelawney had foretold the coming of a woman who would have the power to bring Lucius Malfoy to his knees.When the prophecy is revealed, everything Lucius Malfoy thought is thrown into question and the woman he gave no attention to, becomes the only woman he can think about.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy
Comments: 42
Kudos: 419





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TriDogMom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriDogMom/gifts).



> A birthday gift for our good friend [TriDogMom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriDogMom/pseuds/TriDogMom)   
> We hope your birthday has been super extraordinary, and thank you for making us laugh constantly xx
> 
> Thanks to Claire, Elle, and Laura for reading through this for us xx

His presence always caused a stir. Whispered voices, discreet pointing, and sidelong glances of mistrust… He was accustomed to it — always had been — but the part he played in the war had caused the speculation around him to intensify. He ignored it — of course he did — which only served to make his presence more enigmatic. 

“Don’t you get sick of this?” Draco asked, highly amused as they walked across the Ministry Atrium towards their destination.

“Sick of what?” he enquired.

“The stares. The pointing. Being Lucius Malfoy.”

“Unfortunately I cannot change any of those things,” he replied. “And it’s not my concern if these people have nothing better to do with their time than gossip about why I’m here.”

“ _ Ah _ , I get it,” Draco sniggered. “You enjoy the fame and notoriety.”

Lucius glanced at him and gave him an incredulous look. “I do not.”

“It’s why you dressed for the occasion.”

Lucius scowled. He had deliberately dressed  _ down _ to avoid the attention, but it obviously had the reverse effect. He had forgone traditional robes, thinking a simple three-piece suit would suffice, but the lack of dress seemed to garner more attention. 

But it had become what he preferred. The showy robes and glittering jewels were no longer of any interest to him, nor was the need to remind people of who he was. In fact, he would rather they forget. It was why he had begun to dress more conservatively — to enable him to blend in, to hide amongst the masses. But he knew it was a stretch. Short of cutting his hair and dying it dark brown, he knew he would always be noticed. 

“I’ve taught you from a young age to always dress neatly.” Lucius glanced at his son once more. “I see I have failed.”

Draco laughed. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing?”

Lucius simply shook his head. His son’s waistcoat and shirt paired with Muggle jeans wasn’t what he would consider appropriate attire to attend a meeting at the Ministry. But, of course, it wasn’t Draco and his attire attracting the attention.

“Mr Malfoy,” a Ministry clerk greeted as they approached the lifts. “I have been asked to escort you.”

“Does the Ministry not trust me to find my way?” Lucius asked snippily. 

“No, sir, but level nine is no longer available to the public. An official escort is required.”

“Level nine?” Draco glanced at his father. “What did you do?”

“Nothing,” Lucius snapped. He’d not told Draco exactly why he’d been called to the Ministry, just that he had been and asked that his son accompany him. In fact, he’d not even known why he was summoned himself.

“Mr Malfoy has done nothing illegal,” the clerk informed Draco. “He is here simply at our request because of a recent discovery concerning the Hall of Prophecy.”

“What did you touch last time you were there?” his son asked as they stepped into the lift. 

“Draco,” Lucius warned.

The clerk pulled the gate closed and waved his wand across the panel in the side wall. The lift jerked and then they were moving, headed for the secretive ninth floor. The floor that had been closed to the public since the war. Closed since the break-in.

Lucius stood stiffly beside his son; what in the name of Merlin could they possibly want from him in the Hall of Prophecy?

The parchment he’d received had only requested his presence at the Ministry at a time convenient to him. It had been polite and courteous and in no way indicated he had reason to be concerned. 

But level nine? 

He’d only ever been there once, and everyone knew how that turned out. 

“I thought the Hall of Prophecy was destroyed,” Draco said. 

“Just a rumour,” the clerk replied. “Some prophecies were lost, but not all. An uncountable number of orbs are held within The Hall.”

The lift came to a jerking halt and the clerk smiled as he opened the gate. Lucius and Draco followed him out, both startling when he waved his wand and the glamour he had over him vanished. He stood before them in the unmistakable robes of the Unspeakables. 

He nodded and apologised, explaining, “Only a member of a level nine department can accompany you down here. If I had been waiting in the Atrium dressed like this, suspicions would have been aroused, and we didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, Mr Malfoy.”

“Your level of respect has risen,” Draco noted, then squirmed as Lucius elbowed him in the ribs.

“I appreciate the discretion, Mr…?”

“Smith,” he said with a nod, and the meaning couldn’t be clearer; Unspeakables didn’t use their real names. “Now, gentlemen, if you’ll follow me please?”

They both nodded and followed as he led them down the gloomy corridor to the department proper. The circular entrance chamber was disorienting at first, the floor swirling like water until Mr Smith waved his wand and stilled the effect. He moved towards the third door on the right and spoke in a language neither Lucius or Draco understood.

It swung open and they were met with the icy coolness that emanated from the Hall of Prophecy.

“If you would step inside.” Mr Smith held out an arm and they moved past him and into the chamber. “I’ll ask you both to wait here; The Keeper of the Hall will be along in a moment. I’ll be waiting to escort you out when you’re done. But please, take your time.”

The door closed without allowing them to respond, and the distinct sound of the room shifting outside reverberated inside the hall. 

“This is impressive.” Draco was glancing around the vast chamber, icy cold and lit only by blue-flamed candles. “How big is it?”

“No one rightly knows,” a voice said from the shadows. 

The Keeper of the Hall appeared, tall and broad, dressed in thick robes and holding a glowing lantern. His face was stoic, used to keeping secrets, and Lucius knew this man wouldn’t budge, even under torture. 

“The Hall expands as necessary,” he said. “And contracts when prophecies are removed. It is its own entity. I am here only to preserve the prophecies and inform those to whom they relate. The Hall takes care of itself.”

He turned and began walking down the long, central row of prophecy orbs, the two men following closely, Lucius’ stomach was suddenly in knots. 

Never in his family’s history had the Malfoy name been held inside a Ministry glass ball. Malfoy’s weren’t prophesied; clear paths were mapped out and their lives were set in stone.

Of course, his path  _ had _ changed at the end of the war. His loyalty to the Dark Lord and his beliefs in the Death Eaters all changed. The Dark Lord’s insistence that Draco become a murderer was the catalyst that made Lucius realise he had put his family at great risk. 

A risk that made him desert to the Order of the Phoenix and become a spy. 

But Narcissa’s execution on the final day of the battle that had been the last straw. If Potter hadn’t taken the Dark Lord down, Lucius would have done it himself. 

Death and destruction, senseless murders of innocent people, turning children into soldiers — it was all too much. And he came to hate himself for supporting the bigotry and exclusion that a half-blooded despot preached.

But now, following this shrouded man through this hall, he had never been more terrified in his life. 

They came to an abrupt stop, the Keeper turning to face them once more. He reached out slowly, removing a small, glowing orb from the shelf, and holding it up towards Lucius. 

“Mr Malfoy, I believe this belongs to you.”

Lucius hesitated momentarily, then gingerly held his hand out to take the orb. 

“I shall leave you to hear this on your own.” He disappeared with a pop, leaving Lucius and Draco staring at the orb. 

“How does it—” Draco began, but a mist had formed inside the orb, swirling and clearing, and the face of the Seer emerged. 

_ “A woman with the blood of the common… born without magical ancestry… will bring light to the darkened world with her companions… and the world will rejoice in her name… and he of pureblood and angelic guise, but with heart and mind closed… of an ancestry steeped in tradition... will look upon her with reverence and fall to his knees before her.” _

The spun-glass ball of the prophecy record frosted over and the face within it disappeared into the fog. The voice of Sybill Trelawney faded as the ball returned to its aquamarine clarity.

The silence that fell in the hall was deafening. The two men stared at the glass ball; the prediction was a complete shock. 

“It’s not possible,” Lucius murmured. 

“It’s what it says. Did you want to hear it again?”

“I certainly do not.” Lucius puffed his chest out and glared at the glass ball, his terror replaced with incredulity. “That ridiculous woman predicts nothing but lunacy. In fact, it’s not even a prediction, it’s utter rot.  _ He of pureblood.  _ That could be anyone.”

“I think the  _ angelic guise _ is a dead give away.” Draco snorted a laugh, and pointed to his father’s long mane of hair. “And, as you well know, only those to whom a prophecy refers can remove it from its place. It was why you ambushed Potter. Have you forgotten the war already, Father?”

Lucius’ head snapped up to look at his son, who was still grinning at him. 

“It was not I who took this prophecy from its place,” he said indignantly. 

“No,” Draco agreed, his face still coloured with amusement. “It was The Keeper of the Hall, the only other person with authorised access. But, had anyone else touched it, they’d be enjoying a long stay in St Mungo's drooling on themselves, and this ball of interesting information would have been lost forever. I'm so glad The Keeper found it.”

“I’m delighted that you find this predicament so amusing, Draco.” Lucius returned his gaze to the glass ball. Despite the cool temperature of the vast hall, the glass was warm, and the small orb was surprisingly heavy. 

And even more surprisingly heavy was the prophecy it held. 

True prophecies were rare. Only the most eminent Seers were capable of predictions that would eventuate into truth. And, with the exception of her prediction regarding Potter, Lucius didn’t consider Sybill Trelawney anything close to being an eminent Seer. As far as he was concerned, she had managed that prophecy by sheer dumb luck.

Abundantly clear was the  _ she _ in the prophecy. Common blood, no magical ancestry, bringer of light, rejoice in her name. And the fact that her face appeared in the fog of the prophecy record simply confirmed the truth.

Hermione Granger.

Potter may have been the one who had physically vanquished the Dark Lord, but it was well-known that without her, Potter — and his sidekick, Weasley — wouldn’t have survived his first year at Hogwarts. 

It was also well-known that her title of  _ Brightest Witch of Her Age _ was apt. Her magical knowledge and abilities were almost unmatched. Wandless magic at age eleven; he knew of no other who was as capable. Severus, maybe. Dumbledore certainly, but he still succumbed to a curse. Draco was well beyond adept, but Lucius would still put his money on her if they were to duel. And his own abilities were above average but, if he were to take her on — even by surprise — she would turn on a Sickle and land him on his arse. 

Hermione Granger. A woman to whom he gave little thought. His knowledge of her was limited to what he learned through his son. 

Draco’s work at St Mungo’s brought the pair into direct contact, and Lucius knew by his son’s easily given praise that there had been a shift in their former rivalry. Admiration, it seemed, had blossomed between the two and now a friendship had solidified between them. 

Katie — Draco’s wife — also held Ms Granger in high regard. 

But his own acquaintance with her was almost non-existent. Since the end of the war, he’d only ever seen her at an occasional Ministry ball or passed her on the street. And those rare occasions slipped by with little acknowledgement from either side. 

So why he would be linked with Hermione Granger in a prophecy baffled him. 

And what did it mean —  _ fall to his knees before her? _

He would never bow to her. 

He was more accepting — the war had made him see that the segregation of pureblood and Muggle-born was erroneous — and, of course, he had respect for her abilities and knowledge. And, if Draco was well acquainted with Ms Granger, then that was his son’s business. But he had no desire to know her any more than he already did. 

“ _ Fall to his knees _ …” Draco’s voice dragged Lucius from his musings. “Do you think this is some kind of romantic prophecy?”

“Excuse me?” Lucius was incredulous. Why would Draco even think such a thing?

“This might be your chance, Father.” Draco was visibly struggling to hold in his laughter. “It’s been seven years since Mother’s passing, and you’ve been alone all that time. A younger woman might be just what you need to get your blood pumping again.”

“In seven years, your manners have become appalling.” Lucius’ temper was rising. His son’s merriment was grating on him. “And I have absolutely no romantic inclination towards Ms Granger whatsoever.”

Narcissa had been the love of his life. He’d had eyes for no one else since he’d first met her in their teens. And, after the devastation of her death at the hands of the Dark Lord, Lucius had not been interested in pursuing the opposite sex — as much as his son dogged him to do so. 

To Lucius, even the thought of another woman in his life felt like a betrayal. 

“It could mean anything, Draco.” Lucius shoved the orb into his pocket and retrieved his cane. “Potter’s prophecy spoke of death. Maybe Ms Granger will sever my head when she hexes me to kneel in front of her.”

Draco’s laughter finally broke free. “She’s a Healer, Father. She cures people. I can’t imagine her ever beheading anyone.”

“Yes, well, she’ll not be given the opportunity.” Lucius turned and began the long walk out of the Hall. “This prophecy is simply more of Sybill Trelawney’s rubbish and Ms Granger is of no interest to me... in any capacity.”

Draco grinned at his father’s retreating back and, in a low voice, whispered to himself, “We’ll see, Father. We’ll see.”

  
  


* * *

  
  
  


The  _ Bean & Leaf Cafe  _ was quiet, much to Lucius’ delight.

He’d been frequenting the quaint, hidden away cafe on the south side of Diagon Alley for years, but the younger set had recently happened upon it and turned it into  _ the  _ place to be. But summer was well over, school was back in session, and the work day had started… for those who had a place of work to go to.

So Lucius situated himself in the back corner and was enjoying the quiet. A teapot was in front of him, the Oolong within it brewing to perfection while he resolutely refused to think about the prophecy that was sitting on the dresser in his bedchamber.

_ A woman… _

_...blood of the common… _

_...pureblood and angelic guise…  _

_...heart and mind closed…  _

_...reverence...  _

_...fall to his knees… _

The words of that ridiculous woman had played non-stop inside his head. None of it made any sense. 

Why would he ever be prophesied? And why would it be with Hermione Granger? 

Yes, she was attractive, intelligent, and hard-working. She was the darling of the wizarding world, and he was the villain. And she was half his age. She would no doubt have plenty of suitors her own age to keep her occupied; she wouldn’t need a man old enough to be her father adding to the mix. 

He paused. Why did he immediately assume this was a romantic prophecy? Draco’s idiotic comment had stuck in his mind and he’d focused on little else. Maybe his own idea had been correct. His beheading at Ms Granger’s hand would be apt. The way in which he’d treated her when she was just a child was deplorable. If an adult had spoken to Draco in such a manner, Lucius would have definitely wanted their head on a plate. 

Maybe this prophecy was about forgiveness. Maybe it was a simple case of being metaphorical.  _ Fall to his knees  _ could just be a symbol of asking her forgiveness for his past indiscretions. 

_ Or, it could mean that you want to fall to your knees and devour her _ , a voice inside his head said. 

He shoved the voice away; that was definitely not what he wanted to do. He was quite content in his life, thank you very much, and that contentment would not be disrupted by a nonsensical prophecy.

“Mr Malfoy?” 

Lucius looked up at the sound of the voice.

“Is there something else you need?” The waitress was smiling, but it was forced and somewhat nervous. That he still had this effect on people was something he had become uncomfortable with. 

Her reaction would have caused pride to surge through him prior to the war, but now his perceived reputation made him squirm. He had tried to change, tried to be more accepting, but his purist ways were difficult to distance himself from. 

He smiled at the young girl. “No, thank you. Everything is perfect.”

She nodded — a look of relief on her face — and scurried away quickly. 

Lucius sighed and poured his tea, breathing in the thick, woody aroma before opening  _ The Daily Prophet.  _

Nothing was of real interest to him in the newspaper — which, in his honest opinion, had become little more than a gossip rag thanks mostly to that ghastly beast of a woman, Rita Skeeter. Her idea of journalism — touted as investigative — was little more than conjecture and opinion based on lies. He’d sold his shares in the paper after her abysmal reporting of the Triwizard Tournament and the paper’s refusal to fire her upon discovery of said lies, and he now simply looked at the once reputable newspaper as a source of light entertainment.

He scanned the broadsheet and sipped his tea, slowly letting the world around him vanish, the sounds becoming a quiet hum in the background. 

The Ministry’s latest regulation changes. 

A piece on the latest racing brooms from Nimbus. 

Quidditch scores. 

A long-winded editorial regarding the higher than average OWLs of the latest Hogwarts graduates. According to the journalist, the higher rate was achieved because of the lower stress levels amongst the Muggle-born students. The fact that they hadn’t needed to concern themselves with purist propaganda had made all the difference, the writer said, and Lucius shook his head. 

The war had ended seven years ago, meaning dozens of students had graduated without higher than average levels. He didn’t believe for one second that lower stress levels had anything to do with it. It was all down to the headmistress. 

Minerva McGonagall had finally convinced the school board to allow her to choose the staff as she saw fit and  _ that _ , Lucius knew, was the reason for the higher levels. She had chosen proper professors who knew how to teach, instead of famous faces who did little but preen about. The new headmistress was old-school — professors taught, students learned, rules were enforced, and praise was given only when earned. Unlike her predecessor, Lucius admired McGonagall. Her firm hand and no-nonsense attitude was long overdue at Hogwarts.

He’d not been on the Board of Governors for years, but his interest in the school still remained and, with the few contacts he still had, he was aware that Minerva was moving out from her predecessor’s shadow and making changes for the better. 

He shook his head — this wasn’t his concern. And a poorly researched editorial in a sham of a newspaper shouldn’t bother him. 

He turned the page and his breath caught. 

**_NEW DRAGON POX PREVENTION_ **

_ In a recent press release from St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, a new preventative potion has been developed by war heroine Hermione Granger and former Death Eater, Draco Malfoy. The pair have been researching the potion for months… _

Lucius frowned. Draco had never mentioned a research project. Especially one that centred on Dragon Pox — the very disease that took the life of Lucius’ own father. A fact that Draco was well-aware of. 

Nor did Draco tell him that his work involved Ms Granger. 

His son‘s interest in the ridiculous prophecy record suddenly became clear; his friendship with Ms Granger was deeper than Lucius realised. 

But whatever his son was plotting, whatever hairbrained idea had gotten into his head regarding Ms Granger… Well, Draco would be sorely disappointed. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Lucius." Katie's smile was bright and she looked radiant when she greeted him as he stepped from the Floo. "You're here."

His initial surprise at his son's choice of partner mellowed immediately when he met her. Katie was vivacious and confident, and a talented Herbologist. Her half-blood lineage was of no concern; she had proven on many occasions that his son had chosen the perfect woman to balance him. She held him accountable, made him responsible, and she loved him without condition.

Their relationship had been rocky at first; her accidental injury during Draco's attempted assassination of Albus Dumbledore had always been a heavy weight on Draco's shoulders. He'd sought her out at the end of the war to express his apologies, but she'd been reluctant to forgive. But he'd been persistent, and from his understanding, it had been Ms Granger who had managed to wrangle them together.

"I was glad of the invitation." Lucius smiled at his daughter-in-law. "And are you well?"

Katie ran her hand over her enlarged stomach and her already bright smile grew even brighter. "Very well, both of us. Although your grandson has been very active today."

"He's a true Malfoy then. Narcissa often lamented her discomfort while carrying Draco."

"Well, I'm glad this baby is keeping with Malfoy traditions," Katie replied, making him laugh.

Lucius followed her to the sitting room. He had offered them part of the Manor to live in after their marriage, but they had refused. A home of their own was what they had wanted, and the townhouse they had chosen was surprisingly spacious.

But that space suddenly became tiny.

"Father, glad you could make it at such short notice." Draco stood to greet him, a knowing smirk on his face. "And… you're already acquainted with Hermione."

Lucius glanced towards the young woman sitting comfortably on the couch. She was sipping firewhisky from a delicate crystal tumbler and eyeing him with an unreadable expression.

"Of course." Lucius managed to keep his composure, despite wanting to strangle his son. He wouldn't ordinarily look, but it was difficult not to notice the hem of her skirt had risen along her thigh, nor was it easy to ignore that the long leg crossed over the other was tanned and toned. "Ms Granger, it's a pleasure to see you again."

An odd smile crossed her face, and she nodded. "Likewise, Mr Malfoy."

Draco returned to the armchair he had been sitting in and Katie eased herself into the other, leaving only the space beside Hermione available. And, as if to emphasise the point, a drink was waiting on the coffee table directly in front of the vacant spot.

Loosening the button on his jacket, Lucius sat beside her, leaving a respectable distance between them. He reached forward to pick up the glass from the table, taking the opportunity to glare at his son.

"You've been doing some interesting research." Lucius leaned back, shifting his gaze between the two of them. "I'm curious, Draco, as to why now? You've never shown any interest in researching this particular malady before."

"I'm about to become a father and Dragon Pox is not something I wish my son to experience." Draco nodded towards Hermione. "I asked Granger if she would be available to assist me but, as usual, I ended up assisting her."

"Don't be so modest, Malfoy," Hermione chided gently. "Without you, I'm sure all of our test potions would have exploded all over the lab and the hospital would have pulled our funding."

Draco tipped his glass towards her. "That may be so but, without your genius, I wouldn't have known where to start."

" _Merlin's beard,_ you're nauseating," Katie laughed. "I think I preferred when you two hated each other"

"We never _really_ hated each other, did we, Granger?"

Hermione's laugh was light. " _Oh_ , no, I hated you, Malfoy. I admired your knowledge and skills, but I hated you."

Lucius glanced around at the three of them. Their friendship was easy; clearly they had gotten to know each other well, and Ms Granger looked comfortable in his son's home.

"So how is it then that you two became… friends?"

"I had no clue that Draco planned to be a Healer, and vice-versa," Hermione replied. "It was a shock to both of us that first day at St Mungo's. After seven years, we thought we were rid of each other."

"Becoming Minister of Magic wasn't on your agenda, then?"

"Good lord, no." Hermione laughed again. "Politics and law making? What a bore."

"And your former stance on elf rights…?" Lucius couldn't help himself. The woman beside him had been ruthless in her teen years, and he had assumed she would carry that tenacity into a successful political career.

"That was a simple case of ethics and decency." She drummed her fingers on her knee. "Human slavery is illegal, it's only fair the same should be done for creatures in servitude to those humans."

Lucius held one hand up in surrender. "Just curious, Ms Granger. You will be pleased to know that my own house-elves are paid and well taken care of."

"I _am_ very pleased to hear that, Mr Malfoy." Her smile was bordering on smug and Lucius had to fight his natural instinct to insult her.

"Well, we don't have house-elves," Katie chimed in. "It was a complete disaster at first, teaching Draco how to take care of himself without magical assistance. But he hasn't poisoned us or burned the house down, so I call that a win."

"A definite win. One which we can attribute entirely to Granger," Draco added with a laugh.

"Now, now, Malfoy." Hermione reached across and patted Katie's hand. "Katie's cooking wasn't _that_ bad."

"Hey now!" Katie exclaimed indignantly. "I just grow the food. It's not my fault if it doesn't like to be cooked."

The three of them laughed and Lucius felt slightly uncomfortable, not knowing the joke they were clearly sharing.

"It appears you have assisted my son and his wife greatly."

"Oh, she really has." Katie smiled brightly at Hermione. "She taught us to cook… well, mostly Draco, who has become quite the chef, Lucius." She smiled proudly at her husband. "And the quick cleaning spells have been a godsend now I have a passenger to carry around."

"I hope you're not doing too much." Lucius' concern was old fashioned, he knew, but he knew Katie was a ball of energy and was concerned for her health.

"I'm not, I assure you. Draco won't let me. Those old-school manners of his would have me laying down for this entire pregnancy if I let him."

Katie and Hermione both laughed, while Draco smiled adoringly at his wife.

" _Assisted_ , may not be quite correct, Ms Granger. _Influenced_?" Lucius raised an eyebrow in question at Hermione.

"Only a _positive_ influence, Mr Malfoy." Hermione gave him another smug smile. "I'd never try to teach your son anything untoward. Draco was raised to be far too shrewd to be swayed by the likes of me."

Lucius' jaw twitched — she was far too adept at playing him at his own game. His presence no longer alarmed her as it had when she was a child and the woman now sitting beside him was an alarming presence in her own right.

Taking a slow breath he turned back to Draco. "I was surprised to read about your new potion. With this family's history, I thought maybe I would have been privy to your work, Draco."

Lucius almost felt Hermione's eye roll beside him. His exclusion of her in his question was deliberate. If she planned on making underhanded remarks all night, he would do the same.

"We are sorry, Father," Draco said. "St Mungo's asked that we not share our work with anyone, and we were both just as surprised as you when the story was printed. I had looked forward to telling you first, but—" he shrugged "—I guess the hospital wanted to break the story before anyone else caught wind of it."

"And with the potion being so new, every other potion maker will want to replicate it. St Mungo's was waiting for the patent to come through as well," Hermione added, refusing to be ignored.

"Patent? I would have assumed St Mungo's would want everyone to have access to it."

"You know how it is," she began, pausing until it appeared she had his full attention. But, as soon as he'd looked over at her, he noticed that her top had shifted, exposing one of her shoulders. His eyes locked on the bared skin. It was smooth and even-toned, minus one tiny freckle. And he wanted to get closer, to see exactly what size and shape the freckle was.

"—bureaucracy. They just want everyone to travel to Britain for the potion so St Mungo's gets more recognition, even though it would make more sense to let someone else produce it and ship it around the world. It's a disgusting publicity stunt," she finished.

Even though he'd missed the better part of what she'd said, Lucius chimed in. "I agree. It could help so many more people if it was mass produced and sent to areas prone to Dragon Pox infections."

Her lips were parted the tiniest amount, frozen in shock that he'd agree with her. Draco quickly stepped in.

"Father has donated to Dragon Pox research in the past. We've seen firsthand accounts of what an outbreak can do in an area with minimal medical services," he explained, making Lucius sound a lot more philanthropic and caring than he actually was.

Hermione shifted, meeting Lucius' eyes and angling her body towards him. "That's really wonderful. I thought you'd be the type to hoard your Galleons unless donating furthered your own agenda."

She really didn't pull her punches.

Draco let out a sigh. "Okay, Granger. Let's get it all out in the open like you and I did when we started working together. You're bitchy when you feel awkward."

An adorable grimace settled on her face. "I was doing it again?"

"Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you," he replied.

Lucius looked to Katie, silently asking if they were always like this. She just nodded and rolled her eyes.

"Fine," Hermione said, adjusting her top and — much to Lucius' chagrin — covering her shoulder again. "Mr Malfoy, I don't know how to act around you. I'm not sure if your views have actually changed or if you're just playing nice because your side lost the war."

Her words were so blunt, so honest, that he decided to answer her the same way.

"Ms Granger, you know I worked with the Order as a spy. Would I have done that if I believed in Voldemort's cause?"

"You don't have to be a Seer to know that Voldemort himself was unhinged. Just because you didn't want to follow a lunatic doesn't mean that you think Muggleborns are your equal now."

At the mention of a Seer, Lucius' mind brought forth the image of Hermione's face in the glass orb. His mind clouded, confusion settling over him.

She mistook his hesitation for doubt.

"See? You shouldn't have to even think about that if your views have truly changed," she said, her voice moving towards an angry hiss. "I work with your son. I do the same job as him, and we get along—"

"Stop, Ms Granger. This conversation — it's just unexpected," Lucius interrupted. "I've never had anyone, save Dumbledore, speak to me so frankly about my opinions. I didn't have to think about anything except how to phrase my response."

"Keep the inner lion caged," Draco teased, making her smile. "Not everyone is used to talking about these things openly."

Katie and Hermione shared a knowing look.

"I know that there is no difference between Muggleborns and purebloods. We all have the same magic, albeit in varying quantities. There are pureblood families who produce squibs and Muggle families, like yours, that have produced powerful witches and wizards," Lucius explained, the words coming slowly. "I'm sure you've noticed that we're a bit more old-fashioned in this world, yes?"

Hermione arched an eyebrow. "You don't say."

"Well, a lot of us are averse to change, and Muggleborns are accustomed to a more modern way of life. They bring their more modern notions into wizarding society, and it's hard for us to keep up and accept it." Lucius cleared his throat. "It took me a long time to accept that things were changing and that they needed to change. But when Voldemort took over and wanted us to kill Muggleborns — children — and squibs, I couldn't fathom it."

Carefully, Hermione extended a hand and placed it on his knee, sending a wave of shock through him.

"I'm sorry that I doubted you. It's just hard for me to imagine—"

Finding the small bit of courage he had left, he laid his hand over hers, forming a temporary connection between them and putting her at ease. "It's hard for you to imagine the man who dismissed you and threatened you as a child has completely reversed his views. I understand, Ms Granger. The way I spoke to you was deplorable, nevermind the physical and mental pain some of my actions undoubtedly caused you."

The moment felt crucial, heavy, important — like it had the power to change everything — and then Draco ruined it.

"Well, now that you've made up and are holding hands, shall we have dinner?"

Hermione instantly tensed and yanked her hand away, leaving Lucius feeling bereft.

"Of course," she said, quickly rising to her feet and smoothing her skirt down. "I'm sure Katie and the youngest Malfoy are famished."

Lucius' eyes fell on her arse and her thighs as she stood and offered her hand to Katie. Of course, Draco caught him staring and smirked, nodding in approval. Lucius glowered at him in return before hoisting himself to his feet.

"Right, I wouldn't want my grandson to be deprived."

As Hermione glanced over her shoulder — the one with the intriguing freckle — she said, "You just don't look old enough to be a grandfather. You're much too fit."

Katie sputtered a laugh and leaned in to whisper into Hermione's ear, making Lucius feel like he was back at Hogwarts, seeing the girls sharing secrets.

When Hermione's cheeks flushed, he wanted to know what Katie had said.

Draco slung an arm around his shoulders and said, "You handled that perfectly. Get her fired up and then talk to her calmly and logically until she opens herself up."

He didn't have the heart to tell his son that none of it had been intentional.

* * *

A week after the dinner at Draco and Katie's house, Hermione found herself in a photographer's studio, surrounded by the Weasleys. As part of the publicity for their Dragon Pox discovery, Witch Weekly was doing a feature on both Draco and Hermione, and they'd wanted their families present.

For Hermione, it seemed only natural to have Harry and the Weasleys join her; she'd spent all her holidays and birthdays with them since the end of the war. And, of course, they were all here for her, happily conversing amongst themselves and waiting for her instructions.

However, Draco's family included Lucius, and she was getting more and more nervous with each passing minute. She was fiddling with her dress and her hand couldn't seem to stay out of her hair.

"Where is he, Draco?"

Turning to face her, Draco grabbed her arm. "Settle down, Granger. I told him the photos were at three. I'm sure he just didn't want to get here early. Stop messing with your clothes and your hair. The stylist will _Avada_ you if she has to fix things right before the shoot."

Katie laughed. "It's cute to see you being the flustered one for a change."

"I told him he was too fit to be a grandfather." Squeezing her eyes shut, she said, "It's absolutely mortifying. What kind of a compliment is that?"

She'd been lamenting that comment for the entire week, especially since she'd passed Lucius in public twice and he'd not done more than give her a polite nod.

"I think it's an excellent one," Katie replied. "A man of his age shouldn't look that good."

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "Really? Would you like to — what's the phrase, Granger? Trade me in for an _older_ model?"

"Don't be jealous. It just means that you'll look like that when we're fifty, and that's a good thing." She thought for a moment and then her lips formed a pout. "Or it's a bad thing and you'll decide you always want a hot, younger wife."

With a laugh, Draco kissed her. "Never. I love the one I've got, even if she doesn't turn into a fit grandma."

Stomach fluttering with nerves and jealousy at their easy relationship and banter, Hermione heard the door open. Immediately, she looked up and caught Lucius' eye. She looked away quickly and grabbed Draco's forearm.

"He's here."

"Put your game face on, Granger," Draco said. "Don't let him see you're nervous."

Hermione nodded and focused on pulling herself together. This was another chance to interact with him and catch his interest. He wouldn't want a silly woman who couldn't string two words together properly.

She had to be her normal self, to quell the nerves he seemed to cause in her. Taking a deep breath, she gave herself a little shake. Once her eyes reopened, Draco smiled and suppressed a laugh.

"Father," he called, waving him over, "Granger and I were just wondering where you were."

She could've murdered him.

"It's not even two yet," Lucius replied. "You told me the pictures were at three."

"I also told you that there would be a gathering before, starting at one."

He raised an eyebrow at his son. "You said it was optional."

"Draco, don't give your father a hard time," Katie chided. "He's here early enough to socialise."

Grinning, Hermione decided to open with some teasing banter. "Ten Galleons that he speaks to no one but the two of you."

"Do you want to amend that, Ms Granger? Or shall I let Katie take your money now?"

Draco chuckled. "Father, you and I both know that you're not going to talk to the Weasleys."

"But I am currently here, speaking with Ms Granger," Lucius pointed out. "She's not you or Katie, though it seems you three are a new sort of trio. You're rarely apart."

"Fine," Hermione corrected. "You won't speak to anyone but the three of us."

Lucius looked to Katie. "Are you going to accept her terms?"

Rubbing a hand over her swollen belly, she replied, "Absolutely. I can't imagine you choosing to socialise, even though you helped the Order and everyone in this room is aware of that."

Hermione nearly laughed at the expression on Lucius' face. Pouncing on the rare moment, she said, "Let's make this more interesting than Galleons."

"Oh? What did you have in mind?" Draco asked.

A crazy thought formed in her brain. "If Lucius makes the circuit of the room and finds something discuss with at least five of my guests—"

Draco cut her off, quickly finishing her sentence. "—you'll take him to dinner. At that fancy new place in Hogsmeade that you were raving about."

Hermione bit her lip. She hadn't been thinking something so forward but, when she glanced up at Lucius, she could tell he wasn't going to agree.

"Draco, your manners are becoming more and more atrocious. I would never let a lady pay for my dinner," he griped.

"Granger isn't a lady," Draco quipped, earning himself a slap from Katie. "And, by that, I mean she doesn't prescribe to the old-fashioned notion that men should pay for everything."

"I've got plenty of gold now, after all," Hermione replied, trying to play along. "We could even invite Draco and Katie to come along if you're uncomfortable with it being just the two of us."

Lucius looked like he was considering. "I'm not uncomfortable with it being the two of us. We got on quite well the other night."

Smiling, Katie said, "So, dinner then?"

"And if I don't speak to five Weasleys?"

Hermione shrugged. "Then no dinner."

"I feel as though I should owe you something if I don't complete the wager."

Draco smirked. "I have an idea."

Silently praying that he wasn't going to suggest something sexual, Hermione gestured for him to continue.

"Take her to the Manor library, Father. Though I can't guarantee she'll ever leave once you let her in."

Her heart pounded at the thought; she'd always wanted to see the famed Malfoy library, and Draco had refused to take her, saying that he'd be trapped in there all day. As much as she wanted to see Lucius interacting with her chosen family, she secretly hoped he decided not to.

Lucius glanced at her and chuckled. "It won't be a hardship for me to bring her to the Manor."

"And it won't be a hardship for me to take you to dinner," Hermione replied. "In fact, I think we could find something interesting to talk about."

Katie interrupted the back and forth. "Why have it be a bet, then? Just make the plans."

Hermione looked to Lucius and she could see his hesitance.

Before she could say anything, he put a stop to the awkwardness Katie's statement had caused.

"Well, the bet is just for fun." With a smirk, he gestured towards Molly and Arthur. "Shall we go say hello? I daresay we'll be called for photos before long, and I don't want to lose by default."

Surprised, she simply nodded, her eyes seeking out Draco's. He gave her a reassuring smile.

"Okay," Hermione said. "Let's go."

* * *

Much to everyone's amusement, Lucius dutifully followed Hermione around the room, Katie and Draco trailing behind. As they mingled, it was clear he was trying his hardest to find common ground with the Weasleys to fulfill his end of the bargain.

Surprisingly, he had plenty to discuss with George since they shared an interest in business and revitalising commerce in the wizarding world. Hermione nearly laughed at how well someone as old fashioned and snobby as Lucius Malfoy got on with the biggest prankster she'd ever met. Ginny jumped in when discussion about _The Daily Prophet_ began, saying that she had recently been hired on to report on Quidditch. And, of course, Percy talked about the Ministry ad nauseum.

By the time the photoshoot started, they'd spoken to nearly all the Weasleys, save for Ron, who had been throwing suspicious glances at Lucius all afternoon.

While the Malfoys posed for photos, Harry and Pansy stood beside Hermione.

"You two looked awfully cosy," Pansy teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We had a bet on. He had to have real discussions with five of my guests."

"And he did, so what does he get?" she asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively.

Harry groaned and pretended not to listen.

"Dinner," Hermione replied. "We're going to that new place in Hogsmeade. Really, it's not a big deal."

Pansy clapped her hands. "Can I go home and get you something to wear?"

"Absolutely not. I'm already dressed up enough."

"I have a brand new set of black see-through lingerie," she offered. "I bet he'd like it."

"Pansy, we're going to dinner, not a sex club."

Harry looked to his wife. "And that was supposed to be for me. Why are you trying to give it away?"

"You were going to wear a pair of see-through knickers?" Hermione taunted.

"You know what I mean!"

Getting back to the issue at hand, Pansy asked, "But what if Lucius takes you home after dinner? Are you properly—"

"I'm sure that won't happen," she replied. "But, if it did, I assure you, I'm more than presentable."

Pansy eyed the v-neck of Hermione's dress for a second and then tugged it away from her body, looking down at her bra just to verify. After catching a glimpse of the silvery lace, she nodded her approval.

"You have no boundaries," Hermione said, readjusting her dress. "Honestly, where have your pureblood manners gone?"

"She never had any." Draco's voice made Hermione jump. "Granger, we need you. They want a photograph with you since my family is so comparatively small. I'll even let you stand next to Father."

Slapping his arm, she followed him over to the set and sent Lucius a small smile.

While she'd told Pansy she was sure dinner would be the end of their night, she was secretly hoping that it wouldn't be.

* * *

Two hours later, Hermione and Lucius were seated at a small table in the restaurant. While they waited for the waiter to return with their wine, Lucius began telling her about his classes at Hogwarts.

"Honestly, I think if I hadn't been a Malfoy, I would've taken a Transfiguration mastery," he mused. "I always wanted to learn the Animagus transformation."

Hermione smiled. "I wonder what kind of animal you would've been."

"An interesting question. I've heard some people say that your Patronus and Animagus form is the same, though I'm not sure if that's always the case."

"What's your Patronus?" she asked, curious as ever.

"A wolf," Lucius answered.

Resting her chin on one hand, she examined him carefully. "I think I can see it. I bet your fur would be white if you were a wolf."

"What makes you say that?"

"Well, Sirius Black was an Animagus — a big black dog. Harry thought he saw a Grim the first time he ever saw him. He had dark hair, and his eyes were the same colour whether he was in human or dog form."

"Potter believes in Grims?"

With a laugh, Hermione said, "He was thirteen at the time! The day after he saw Sirius, he picked up his very first Divination textbook. You know what that rubbish can be like."

Lucius picked up his menu and examined it carefully. "I do know that Divination is a very woolly subject, indeed. No certainty anywhere, aside from very few extremely gifted Seers."

Her breath caught.

Lucius Malfoy believed in Seers, in prophecies.

* * *

"So, if you hadn't become a Healer, what would you have done with your life?"

"Honestly?"

"No, I want you to lie to me," he teased, taking a sip of his after dinner tea.

They'd lingered after the meal, conversing and sharing stories. More often than not, they had been laughing and smiling.

Hermione thought for a moment. "I always thought I'd write a book one day. Does that count?"

"I guess so, though that isn't really an 'instead'," Lucius answered. "You could easily do those two things concurrently."

Hermione glanced at the clock, noting it was nearing ten p.m. "I could, but I don't have any immediate plans to."

"I saw you look at the clock. Do you have somewhere you need to be?"

"No, I'm sorry. That was rude of me. We're just the last ones here," she whispered. "I feel awkward."

Lucius looked around and was shocked to see she was absolutely right. "I didn't realise it had gotten so late."

"Time flies," she said, waving the waiter over. Instinctively, he handed the bill to Lucius, and Hermione frowned. "I'll take that, actually."

Lucius' face reddened as he handed it over.

The waiter looked at her in surprise and then his eyes moved back to Lucius. "My mistake."

"I lost a bet," Hermione said as she wrote down her vault information. "I had to buy him dinner."

"And I told her this was completely unnecessary," Lucius explained. "But she's quite stubborn. It's not right for a lady to pay for dinner."

"Well, Mr Malfoy, ladies do occasionally pay for dinner when they're on a date," the waiter responded. "It's not as uncommon as you think."

"That just proves that there are fewer and fewer gentlemen in the world."

"Or it proves that wizarding society is finally catching up to Muggle society and women are being viewed as equals allowed to have careers," Hermione challenged, meeting his eyes.

Lucius swallowed uncomfortably as she handed the bill back to the waiter.

Before she had the opportunity to stand, Lucius somehow rose and pulled her chair before offering her a hand up. Especially since she'd just put him in his place about paying for a date, she found it sweet that he was still behaving like a gentleman.

They walked slowly towards The Three Broomsticks, their arms bumping from time to time. Neither of them said a word, but the silence was comfortable.

When they reached the Floo, Hermione looked up and said, "I had a lovely evening."

"I did, as well," he answered. "If it wasn't so late, I'd invite you to come to the Manor to see the library."

She didn't know what to say in response, so she stayed quiet.

After clearing his throat, he added, "If you're free this weekend, you're welcome to visit. I don't have any plans."

"I'd love to. Does Sunday work for you? I'm working Saturday."

Lucius looked at her questioningly. "After everything you've done, you're still working weekends?"

Shrugging, she replied, "I honestly don't mind. I like the normalcy of it."

"Sunday is fine, then. Around midday? We could have lunch before you undoubtedly barricade yourself in and refuse to leave."

Hermione chuckled. "That sounds lovely. I'll see you then."

Lucius gestured to the Floo. "Ladies first. I won't hear a word against it."

As she stepped into the flames, she said, "Goodnight, Lucius."

"Goodnight, Hermione."


	3. Chapter 3

She was everywhere.

_Everywhere_.

Every time he stepped out of the Manor, he saw her.

Diagon Alley. Gringotts. The Cafe — _his_ cafe.

And hers and Draco's constant attention in _The Daily Prophet_ had given him reason to completely forgo the trashy rag.

He was proud of his son of course, and by default Ms Granger's work alongside him gave Lucius pause to consider that she harboured no ill-will towards Draco, and potentially himself. But the constant images of her had begun to disrupt his thoughts.

And the spectacle in the shower that morning…

He'd been like granite, waking up from a dream, panting and covered in sweat. She'd been under him, her soft thighs pressed against his ribs while he slid back and forth inside her. He could feel the warmth of her body wrapped around his, taste the salt on her skin, smell the perfume she wore. He'd touched her everywhere; the curve of her hip, the swell of her breast, the tiny freckle on her shoulder. He'd kissed her, and she'd kissed him back. She'd come around his cock with a cry of his name. He'd come inside her with a rough groan, then woken twisted in the bedsheets, shouting her name in the empty room.

He'd groaned in disgust at the mess on his stomach, even more horrified at his still-twitching cock. He'd still been hard, still wound like a spring, his balls tight and heavy and searching for another release. He'd tried to ignore the raging ache as he stood under the tepid water of the shower, the coolness doing nothing to calm his body. He was worked up in a way he hadn't been in years. Narcissa was the only woman who had ever had this effect on him, and it hadn't been since his teen years that a morning wank in the shower was necessary.

And as hard as he tried, it was no longer Narcissa's face that saw when he closed his eyes.

He started out slow, imagining those chestnut eyes watching him, staring directly into his, never dropping to watch his hand. The effect was more erotic; her face watching his, unblinking, the tiny curve of her lips making her all the more seductive. She wasn't naked — not quite — dressed in a white lace bra and knickers, and slowly becoming soaked as the water tumbled over her.

Lucius opened his eyes and stared at the grey stone of the shower wall. He shouldn't be doing this. Shouldn't be picturing her. Shouldn't be imagining all the filthy things he wanted to do to her, when just days ago he wanted nothing to do with her.

He blamed that damned freckle. The one that caught his eye when her top shifted. The tiny imperfection on her otherwise perfect skin. He wanted to run his tongue over the dark fleck, wanted to own that tiny piece of her.

Wanted to place her hands on the stone wall and fuck her from behind.

He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut. No. No, no, no, no, no. This wasn't right. She was Draco's age, she was his son's friend and colleague, and Lucius knew she wasn't interested in him in the slightest.

Murmuring Narcissa's name, he tried to force the image of his late wife into his mind, tried to picture her blonde hair, her blue eyes, the wicked smile she had reserved only for him. He imagined her voice, urging him on, and he began to move his hand again. He was hard; harder than he had been in a long time. But he knew it wasn't because of Narcissa.

The image had already slipped.

The white lace was drenched, becoming transparent under the slew of water. Her pink nipples were tight and his mouth watered at the thought of what they would feel like against his tongue.

"Fuck," he grunted, starting to pump himself harder.

Wet lace and skin and curls — elongated, nearly black curls, stretched out by the weight of the water. A flushing face, even as she confidently met his eyes. And then she was touching herself too, working her own clit, her fingers rubbing over the lace. Her lips parted, releasing a needy moan.

Somehow, he didn't have the control she did. He looked down, desperate to see the way she touched herself — the things she liked. He wanted to learn her, to please her, to memorise every inch of her skin and the sounds she would make when he touched her here or there.

He wanted to know what made her scream and beg for more.

Nearly all of his senses were working together, making the fantasy seem so real. The water from the shower cascaded over his skin, and his hand was stroking along his shaft. He could imagine what she looked like in a bra and knickers, could hear her voice clearly in his mind, could remember the pleasured hum she'd made when she ate her dessert. The scent of her shampoo — or perfume — had lingered with him long after they'd parted.

There was one unknown variable left, and the very thought of it brought his orgasm closer.

Taste.

What did she taste like?

Her skin, the freckle, her cunt...

What would it feel like to fall to his knees and taste her?

His eyes flew open just as he came, his groan a mixture of pleasure and frustration.

_Fall to his knees._

That damned prophecy.

* * *

"So, have you done the nasty with him yet?"

Harry groaned, but Hermione had expected Pansy's greeting. She'd been far too invested in Hermione's interest in Lucius and her crudeness had only become worse as the weeks passed.

Hermione slumped into the armchair by the fireplace and looked at Harry for help.

"Pans, maybe we should go a bit easy on her," he said in the gentle manner he used when dealing with his fiery wife. "Let her explain why she's here before we pounce."

"We know why she's here." Pansy sat on the couch opposite her, a huge grin on her face. "She finally landed her dream man and she wants to share all the filthy details."

"I've not landed anything!" Hermione snapped, her building frustration finally bursting out. "Nothing's happened, and I can't see anything ever happening. He's not shown the slightest interested in me other than to be polite."

"Didn't you just spend the day in his library?" Harry asked.

"I did, but all that happened was that I read books all day. He occasionally summoned a house-elf for food and drinks, but I wouldn't call that anything but being a good host."

"So, you didn't even talk to him?" Pansy looked at her like she'd grown a second head. "How is this supposed to work if you don't tell him how you feel?"

"We talked, just not about anything other than books. And it's still a bit awkward, especially since our first date wasn't even a date, it was a stupid bet. He probably felt forced to interact with me."

"I don't think that's true," Harry said. "This was your first time back in the Manor since…"

He trailed off with a glance at her arm. The red scar had faded but it was still visible. She rarely took any notice of it — the ugly mark had become a part of her life — but maybe Lucius had given it more thought than she did.

"I probably should have covered it up."

"Don't you dare," Pansy warned. "He needs to remember what happened to you."

"I thought you wanted this to work out between us. This probably just reminded him why he hates me."

"Hermione, he doesn't hate you," Harry stated calmly. "I saw how he was with you at the magazine shoot. He wouldn't have spoken to anyone—"

"That was the bet," Hermione said with an implied d'uh.

"He wouldn't have spoken to anyone, if you hadn't been there. He didn't speak to them because of a bet you made, he spoke to everyone because you were there."

"Harry's right," Pansy agreed. "Lucius Malfoy doesn't do anything he doesn't want to. He did that for you. He wanted to win that bet so he could have dinner with you."

"Maybe, but he doesn't seem at all interested in me. Not in _that_ way."

"He's a Malfoy. He's not likely to see what's right in front of him." Pansy leaned forward and pointed her finger at Hermione. "He needs some prodding. You need to take control. You need to let him know how you feel."

"And completely embarrass myself when he rejects me?"

"He won't reject you. Katie said she thought Lucius might actually believe the prophecy. Apparently he mentioned it while having dinner with them a few nights ago." Pansy grinned. "I guess I do a pretty good impression of Trelawney."

"And me being glamoured as _Mr Smith_ …" Harry snorted. "I'm surprised Draco held it together."

"I still can't believe you convinced Kingsley to act as the Keeper of The Hall!"

"Kingsley would do anything for his favourite witch."

Harry and Pansy both began to laugh, but Hermione's stomach lurched at the thought of what they'd done.

Draco had realised quickly her feelings towards his father. Her questions regarding what Lucius had been up to hadn't been covert enough. Draco had played along at first, answering her daily questions, but he had finally cracked and made her confess why she was asking.

Much to her shock, Draco hadn't been at all put off by the fact she was admitting she was enamoured with his father. Instead, he was completely supportive, going so far as to telling her Lucius' weekly routine; his favourite cafes, where he met for business lunches, the fact that he loved the white chocolate and raspberry truffle ice cream at Florian Fortescue's.

She'd felt like a stalker the first time she followed him along Diagon Alley. She'd kept her distance, watching his back as he strolled along the busy street. It had been another month before she actually entered the cafe and sat at the furthest table away from him, hoping he wouldn't notice her, but also hoping he would.

When Draco confronted her as to why he hadn't yet seen them together, she admitted she couldn't just ask Lucius out. She wasn't terrified of _him_ , just his reaction.

That was when Draco came up with his hair-brained plan. A fake prophecy, predicting the coming together of the Brightest Witch and a closed-minded pureblood. Of course, Pansy wanted in on the game, as did Harry and Katie. And Hermione wasn't surprised when Kingsley agreed to help out; she knew he'd do anything for her. He'd wanted her to join him at the Ministry after the war as his right-hand woman. But politics wasn't for her.

Hermione was the only one who hadn't loved the idea. She told them all she just needed more time to talk to him, but they would have none of it. So she had reluctantly gone along with it.

But now she hated it.

"Hermione, it'll be fine. I know Lucius, and he will only laugh," Pansy reassured her. "He'll think it a great joke you went to all this trouble for him."

"And when he learns we're all very supportive of this, I know he'll be completely fine," Harry added.

Hermione was grateful for their enthusiasm, but the ominous feeling still sat heavy on her shoulders. She was sure the longer this charade went on, the harder it would backfire.

* * *

"Hello, Lucius."

Before he even turned, he knew their paths had crossed again.

"Good afternoon, Ms Granger. Shouldn't you be at St Mungo's?"

She shook her head. "I took the day off. I couldn't take another afternoon of people fawning over me. Draco said he'd handle the delegation from Seattle."

"I'm sure he's soaking up the positive attention," Lucius quipped. "So what brings you to Diagon Alley? I'm sure you won't escape attention here."

She ran a hand through her curls. "Honestly? I'm just passing through. I'm going to head out into Muggle London, but I had to take care of something at Gringotts and they're less than accommodating for me."

Remembering the way she had masqueraded as Bellatrix, he decided to continue teasing her.

"Well, to be fair, you did break in and rob them. They spent a lot of time reinforcing their wards and retraining everyone to resist the Imperius Curse after the war."

Huffing, she replied, "You know I had no choice."

When she started walking again, Lucius fell into step beside her, their strides in perfect sync. "I've no doubt," he said seriously. "And I'm eternally grateful for what you did. I'm simply pointing out that you upset the goblins and made them break from their traditions."

"Seems I do that a lot," Hermione responded. "I got Draco to break his."

"That you did."

As they approached The Leaky Cauldron, Lucius didn't break away and go in another direction. He found himself opening the door for her and following her into the pub, but she didn't question it.

"Where are you heading specifically?" he asked.

Hermione smiled and waved to the landlady. "I'm just going to do some shopping."

"Shopping? What could you possibly need that you can't get in Diagon Alley?"

Laughing, she replied, "Oh, there's plenty you can't get in the wizarding world."

"Such as?"

She slowly trailed her eyes over him, taking in his dark suit. Her hand raised to his neatly tied cravat, and she tugged on it slightly. "Well, Lucius, maybe I could show you how good you'd look in Muggle clothes."

"I see nothing wrong with how I'm dressed," he replied with a huff. "A well attired gentleman has respect for himself."

"I agree, but is this what you wear at home?" She looked him over once more. "Because this doesn't look particularly comfortable to lounge around in."

"Lounge around?" He frowned, perplexed and she laughed.

"Oh, you don't do that?" She pursed her lips to stifle her laughter. "Or have you never heard that term before?"

"I believe the term I would use would be _relax_ ," he answered, his face fighting the expression of distaste at her assumption he wasn't aware of Muggle slang.

"No, I would use relax in a whole different context." She nodded her thanks as he held open the outer door to the pub, the one that would set them into Muggle London. "Relaxing to me is soaking in a hot bath, with oils and bubbles and a glass of red."

Lucius fought once more to keep his expression straight; naked in her bath wasn't what he needed to visualise while he was in public.

"Lounging around implies comfy clothes, a book, a cup of tea, and the couch."

"I'm quite comfortable in these clothes," he said. "I don't understand why you take issue with my attire."

"I don't _take issue_ with your attire. I understand completely that you need to look businesslike when you're out, but why do you need to at home?"

"And how is it you know what I wear in my home?"

"Because it took Katie and me months to get Draco to wear anything but a suit. And Katie informed me that he only took it off for bed." She winked at him and he had to look away.

If she only knew what _he_ slept in… or didn't sleep in.

"Well, Ms Granger." He stopped at her smirk and corrected, "Hermione. Maybe I should accompany you since you're so knowledgeable as to men's attire. Maybe I should allow you to dress me."

It was his turn to be smug as she glanced quickly away from him. He'd chosen his turn of phrase deliberately to gauge her reaction. He'd been wondering at her sudden appearance everywhere he went, and he was beginning to suspect why.

He wasn't sure it was possible; she was half his age, and she once despised him. But her sudden presence in his life had been cause for him to rethink his own attitude to his life. Not his former hatred of all things Muggle, but his disinterest in the opposite sex.

Narcissa had been gone for almost a decade, and he'd not once entertained the idea of seeking another. She had been the woman who had shown him what true love was, and he could never replace those feelings. But this fiery young woman strolling casually beside him was making it difficult to not betray his sense of loyalty to the woman he thought would be his only love.

"I'd be more than happy to assist you, Lucius."

Her smile had returned, her composure regained, and he knew he had possibly just sold his soul to a Siren.

* * *

"You don't mind riding the Tube, do you?" she asked as they approached the station.

He winced. Muggle transportation. His only experience with it was at King's Cross, when he travelled by train to Hogwarts, and then to assist Draco to do the same. But he wouldn't let her see his unfamiliarity with the London trains and held his head high.

"I'm sure it will be fine."

"Do you have Muggle money?"

"I do."

Her eyes went wide in surprise. "Really? You carry Muggle money?"

"It might surprise you even more to know I always have." He tapped his chest, "I may have been… averse… to the Muggles but I wasn't so stupid to know that keeping a vast sum of my money in Muggle institutions was wise."

"Makes sense," she said and winked. "Kept it hidden from your old boss, hey?"

"Indeed it did. And because of his blindness to all things Muggle, he was unable to use the Malfoy fortune to build his own."

"You're more devious than I thought."

"Am I?" he asked mockingly. "Are you not the girl who has broken many rules over the course of your young life as a witch?"

"Ah, but my breaking the rules was for the good of society, not for self gain." She paused and watched as he fished his wallet from inside his jacket, pulling out several fifty pound notes, and she frowned. "That's way too much. It's fine. I'll pay this time."

"Ms Granger—"

"Don't go all chivalrous on me, you can buy me lunch. Now, wait here."

Lucius watched as she made her way across the station, conversed for a minute with a woman behind a counter, then returned with a small card.

"You need that to get on the train." She swiped her card across the turnstile and stepped through, indicating he should do the same.

He mimicked her actions, then turned back to watch the turnstiles, a fascinated expression in his face. These Muggles knew more about magic than he gave them credit for. That little card had the power to do many wondrous things.

"How does that work?" he asked as they awaited the arrival of their transport. "That tiny card allows you to travel anywhere?"

"It does. Not as efficient as Apparition, but since we can't just appear out of nowhere in the middle of London, we have to take the train. Old fashioned, I know, but we don't have much choice."

Unthinking, Lucius placed his hand on her lower back as the train arrived and the doors slid open. "Yes, well, some old-fashioned values are still held in high regard."

"And some of those old-fashioned values are appreciated."

They rode the train in companionable silence, Lucius marvelling at more of the Muggle magic around him. The underground tunnel the train sped through. The complete nonchalance with which the people around him rode. The loud voice that seemed to come out of nowhere every time they reached another station. And while the journey was slower than he cared for, it had been of great interest.

When they emerged from their stop, Hermione explained they had a short walk to their destination.

"You're loaded, right?" she asked with a wicked smirk.

"If you mean well off, then yes, I have sufficient funds for any clothing you think I might require."

"Perfect," she said and, much like he did in the Tube station, she looped her arm through his without a thought.

She guided him along the street, and he had to wonder if she'd cast some kind of avoidance charm since everyone around them seemed to clear a path as they made their way past shops the likes he'd never seen before. Clothing, food, watches, jewellery, bags, leather goods, even house furniture. He was well aware of the Muggle world, but only on the periphery of his life. He'd known it was vastly different from the wizarding world, but not on the scale he was now seeing.

"Almost there," Hermione said, pointing ahead to the next block, her arm still firmly looped around his. "I hope you're ready for this."

"Are you planning on depleting my entire fortune on clothes?"

"Not your entire fortune, just a large chunk of it." She paused at the kerb, checking both ways before leading him across the road. "And this is where we'll be spending it!"

She stopped in front of a large shopfront. Emporio Armani the sign read and Lucius grinned; Armani had been the name inside his suits for ten years. The designer had apparently discovered the wizarding world through the American market, and much like the man himself and his need for privacy, he kept the wizarding world a secret.

"You shop here, don't you?" Hermione shot him an incredulous look.

"No, I've never stepped foot inside this shop." Lucius explained. "I get Mr Armani's suits tailor made and delivered to my home."

"Of course you do." She glanced up and down the street. "I'll take you somewhere else."

"No, please," Lucius grabbed her hand as she began to walk away. "I know these clothes. I appreciate how well made they are."

"You're not buying more suits. That's not why you came shopping with me. You wanted me to dress you."

"I did say that, and—" he indicated towards the doors "—I'm sure Mr Armani has more than suits in his shop."

She looked at the doors and then back to him. "I doubt Mr Armani will be in here. But, if we walk in there and they ask if you're here for a new suit, we're leaving."

"I can agree to those terms." He held the door open. "But rest assured, this will be the first time I've ever been here."

"Fine," Hermione huffed and entered the shop.

They were greeted with an assistant who had an expression that said he couldn't believe his luck. Lucius oozed money, he knew he did, but he wouldn't be throwing it away just because Hermione and the sales assistant were smiling sweetly at him.

"How can I help you today?" the assistant asked.

"My… friend needs a new look. He lives in suits, even when he's home and needs something a little more casual," Hermione explained.

He clapped his hands and two more assistants appeared, and suddenly Lucius was being directed across the shop, clothes appearing seemingly from nowhere. Shirts that were neither his usual white or black piled up. Trousers that looked like the jeans his son was always wearing were added to the pile, as were several soft-looking jumpers.

Hermione held her hand up, stopping his protest. "At least give them a chance. Try them on, and if you don't like them, you can stick to your boring suits."

He barked out a laugh, "I do not see you allowing me to leave without at least one purchase."

"Best you start stripping then."

"Out here?"

"Entirely your choice," she replied with a smile.

Lucius shook his head at her sass, grabbing the first three items and disappearing into the dressing room. He scowled at the clothes, wondering why in Merlin's name did he agree to this.

_Do you think this is some kind of romantic prophecy?_

Draco's words were loud inside his head, but they spoke the truth. Lucius had come to believe the prophecy he had thought insane was actually accurate. The time he had spent with her had been enjoyable. She was as Draco had repeatedly told him; intelligent and well read. She could converse easily about any subject he brought up, and she'd even caught him out with new information and research on various topics he thought he was up to date with.

Sighing, he began to undress. He knew exactly why he was doing this, and she was sitting on the other side of the door.

He took the shirt from the hanger, deciding since it was the item he was most familiar with, he would start with it. The dark blue was unlike any colour he would have chosen, but he would humour her. He was certain he would look ridiculous and her shopping adventure would come to end, enabling him to return to his usual attire. He hesitated at the jeans; they didn't look comfortable in the slightest. They were heavier than his trousers, and didn't look like they would allow him easy movement, but he reminded himself of his goal.

Hermione Granger.

He repeated her name inside his head and pulled the jeans on, surprised to find they were more comfortable than he had assumed. The jumper was next and once more he was pleasantly surprised to find it fitted perfectly.

His reflection in the mirror, however, shocked him.

He wasn't prepared for the drastic change in his appearance. The grey of the jumper, and the deep blues of the shirt and jeans seemed to make him appear younger. And the clothes were so well tailored, they showed off the fact he took great care of himself.

"Lucius?" Hermione's voice called. "Everything okay?"

"Yes. Everything's fine. I'm just…" He took a breath and stepped out of the dressing room.

"Wow."

Hermione stood before him, her eyes wide and her jaw slack. He hoped it was a good sign.

"You look… wow." She tilted her head to one side. "Turn around."

Lucius did as he was asked, frowning at the small gasp he heard. "No?"

"Oh, definitely not no," she said and the assistants agreed. "Who knew you had an arse."

Lucius spun around. "Excuse me?"

"You look amazing, Lucius. You should definitely show off what Merl—the good lord gave you."

"You're sure about this?"

Her smile was a heady mix of sweet and devious. "I've never been more sure about anything in my life."

* * *

With his wallet significantly lighter, and with the numerous parcels of clothing being sent to his home, they left the shop and began their return journey along the busy street.

Her initial reaction had caught him off guard. Asking him to turn around then admiring his backside had been an embarrassment he'd not been prepared for. But there had also been a look of lust in her eyes when he first stepped out of the dressing room, a look that sparked his own base feelings. But she'd been sparking those feelings in him since they first had dinner with Draco and Katie. And while he was flattered by her attention, flattered by the thought she was even entertaining the idea of him as something more than just Draco's father, he wasn't sure he could act upon it.

She was the wizarding world's golden girl. Brightest witch. Member of the Golden trio. And he was still looked at with contempt even though it was common knowledge he had assisted the Order in bringing down the Dark Lord. The intrigue and questions would be intrusive to say the least.

But he was drawn to her. Drawn by a prophecy he had not believed in. A prophecy that put Sybil Trelawney's correct predictions at three.

"Weren't you planning on some shopping of your own?" he asked when he realised they were headed back in the direction of the train station.

"I was," she replied. "But I can come back another day."

"Hermione, I've disrupted your entire day." Lucius wrapped his hand around her elbow and halted their stroll.

"I.. _ah…_ was actually going to stop in here." She pointed to the lingerie shop they had stopped in front of.

Lucius wasn't sure where to look. He wasn't a prude; he'd purchased a great many sets of lingerie for Narcissa over the years they had been married. But the reason he couldn't look was, the mannequin in the shop window was wearing the white lace he'd imagined seeing Hermione in.

"Oh, right. I'll just leave you to it. I'm sure there's a hidden spot along this street I can safely Apparate from. Or I could just find a cafe and wait for—"

"Lucius, it's fine. I'm not sure your delicate constitution would survive knowing I'd been trying on lingerie."

"I was more concerned you'd ask me to watch."

"Are you saying you wouldn't want to?"

"I'm not sure our friendship extends to underwear."

"Is that what we are?" she asked. "Friends?"

"We are friendlier than we used to be, so I assumed." Lucius spoke quickly, the small scowl on her face made him nervous. "And in my knowledge of you and your Hogwarts companions, I would prefer you to be a friend."

"Friends." Her scowl shifted to a strained smile, and he still sensed he may have said the wrong thing. "Yes, I guess we are friends."

She began to walk again, and Lucius fell into step beside her, wondering what he should say to fix the mess he had just made. His suspicions were confirmed by her scowl; _friends_ was definitely not what she thought this was.

But they had reached the station by the time he had decided what to say, and there were too many people on the platform to properly voice his sentiments.

She took the only vacant seat on the train and Lucius stood facing her, his arm stretched up to hold the overhead rail. He didn't even try to hide his line of sight as she crossed one leg over the other, her skirt riding up and exposing several inches of her thigh. He expected her to cover herself — especially since they were in public — but she simply smiled and allowed him to look.

Her own eyes wandered, trailing down the buttons on his jacket to the place where the hem rose above his belt. Her eyes fell on the front of his trousers, and like herself, he allowed her to look. She licked her lips and he noted her fingers curling into a fist against her thigh.

_Did she want to touch him?_

Lucius averted his gaze. If she did want to touch him, he couldn't think about it right now. Not while they were surrounded by a train carriage packed with people. He didn't need for her — for anyone around him — to see the effect she was having on him.

And then he felt her hand on his waist.

He glanced down; she'd looped her finger through the belt loop on his trousers and was smiling up at him.

"You looked good in those clothes."

"They are surprisingly comfortable." He covered her hand with his, brushing the pad of his thumb over the inside of her wrist. "I am pleased I have your approval."

"I think you'll have everyone's approval."

"It's not everyone's approval I'm seeking."

Her eyes widened momentarily and her throat bobbed as she swallowed. Her reaction was subtle but it told him everything. He'd not been imagining anything. Being friends was _definitely_ not what she wanted.

He kept his hand on her wrist, kept his eyes on hers for the remainder of the journey. She didn't flinch under his gaze, instead she seemed to enjoy it.

When they rose from the station into the late morning sun, Lucius had to pause to take in their surroundings.

"This is not where we began our journey."

"No, it's not," she agreed. "We took a different line and my house is just a few blocks away. You can Apparate safely from there."

He offered his arm to her and she accepted it with an easy smile, and as with their walk through London's busy shopping district, they chatted as they meandered along the leafy streets towards her home.

"You've chosen quite the picturesque area to reside in," he noted. And while he knew she was well equipped to protect herself — the wards surrounding her house were sure to be impenetrable — he was glad the suburb appeared safe and quiet.

"I was — I'm not sure fortunate is the right word — but my parents left me with a rather large inheritance, and with the reward the Ministry gave me, I was able to purchase a home here." She glanced around, smiling. "And considering I'm only twenty-five, this area would have definitely been out my reach without the money."

"It's affluent then?"

"It's not as affluent as some areas, but it's mostly young families and single professionals. I like it here. It's safe and quiet, and while my home might not be the grandest in the neighbourhood, it's mine."

His relief was immediate when she confirmed his thoughts. Safe and quiet. It was what she needed; her short life had already had more than enough of danger and noise.

They rounded a corner and she pointed out her home, across the street and a few doors up. The house was simple; two floors with what appeared to be an attic in the roof. White window frames, light grey walls, and a black shingled roof. It was neat and tidy, and appeared to share a wall with its neighbour. But that seemed to be the norm along the street; houses paired together in sets like twins.

"I know it's no manor house—"

"It doesn't have to be. If you're comfortable here, nothing else matters."

Her cheeks turned pink at his words and she ushered him towards the front door. "You can Apparate from the back garden, it's glamoured so no one will see."

The inside of her house was as neat as the outside. The staircase on the right headed up to the next floor, and an archway to the left opened the living room and kitchen into the hallway that led straight to the back door. He followed her as she headed that way, shoving down the disappointment that she wouldn't ask him to stay.

"I've had a most enjoyable day," he said with a nod of thanks; his life-long manners kicking in automatically. "It has become a pleasure to be your friend, Hermione."

"I think we're more than friends, Lucius." She spoke so quietly he was sure he had heard her incorrectly. "At least, that's what I want."

He faltered at her words, his hand stilling on the doorknob, and he turned to face her.

"What you _want_?"

"I think it's what you want too."

Her embarrassment dropped her eyes to the floor, and without a second thought, he reached out and traced his fingertips along her cheek, lifting her face to his, her tiny shiver at his touch making him smile.

"It is very much what I want." He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. "So today's outing was just a charade to get me to come to your home?"

"No! Of course not!" she exclaimed in horror, then rolled her eyes at his smirk. "You were joking."

"I have been enjoying your company, Hermione. Much more than I ever thought I would. And, like you, I don't wish to just be your friend."

He tucked her hair over her shoulder, his fingers tracing along the side of her throat, his hand curled around the back of her neck. His gaze snapped to her lips as her tongue peeked out, wetting her lips in anticipation. A possessive feeling came over him, raw and needy, and he knew without a doubt he would absolutely fall to his knees for her.

"Lucius? Are you—"

His mouth was on hers before she could speak another word, his arm wrapping around her as she stumbled backwards with the force of his kiss.

A burst of fire, sparks of light, heart thumping. It was all there. And when her arms wrapped around his neck, he was gone.

He took complete control, claiming her as his own with a possessive surge. Her back met the wall and he followed, pressing his entire body against hers, his tongue sliding deeply into her mouth. The aching emptiness his life had become was painfully apparent in this one moment. Why he had so stubbornly refused to even entertain the idea of having another woman in his life now seemed absurd.

The prophecy had been correct. His son had been correct. She was exactly what he hadn't known he wanted.

But, he couldn't have her now.

He pulled back, her lips were red and swollen, her cheeks flushed. Her eyes dropped quickly to his lips and it took everything he had to not lift her into his arms and find the nearest bedroom.

"I must go," he breathed and disappointment fell across her face. "I'm not rejecting you, I just have to control myself around you."

Her disappointment turned to confusion. "I don't understand."

"Dinner with you was on a bet." He curled her hair behind her ear. "And today has been quite enjoyable, but not what I'd I call—"

"A proper date." She smiled up at him. "You're old fashioned and want to ask me out to dinner properly."

"I hope you're agreeable to that."

"I am _very_ agreeable," she assured him.

"May I send an owl with details?"

"Please, that would be lovely."

Lucius kissed her once more, quickly, very unsatisfyingly. He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her dark eyes, in her scent, in her body. But, he forced himself to take a step back, giving them both room to breathe.

"I very much look forward to seeing you in the coming days, Hermione." He lifted her hand and pressed a warm kiss to her fingers. "My heart and mind are no longer closed, but a lifetime of tradition is a hard habit to break, and I wish to court you in the proper pureblood manner."

A small flinch flickered across her face, but her bright smile replaced it almost as quickly as it had appeared. Was his use of _pureblood_ upsetting? But his fears were allayed just as quickly.

"And I look forward to being courted by a proper, pureblood gentleman."


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning, Hermione woke and swore her lips were bruised and seared. Remembering the kiss she'd shared with Lucius sent heat coursing through her body.

But that heat was significantly tempered by the guilt she felt.

Thinking back to the night they'd gone to dinner in Hogsmeade, she remembered his faith in true Seers and prophecies, and that made her feel like she was manipulating him. If he actually believed it, then she needed to come clean with him before they took things any further.

After a long, hot shower — where her detachable shower head had come in quite handy — she dressed and headed over to Draco and Katie's unannounced. It would have been more polite to Floo them first, but she didn't want to take the chance that they'd tell her they were busy.

Katie was on the sofa, her feet propped up on pillows on the coffee table. "Draco, Hermione's here and she looks crazy."

Hermione flipped her off. "We've made a horrible mess of things."

"What do you mean, Granger?"

The first thing Hermione noticed was that Draco was shirtless. The second thing was that he was wearing Slytherin joggers that were at least a decade old.

She waved her hand at his torso. "Go cover up. For the love of Godric, I don't need to see all that."

Shrugging, he ran a hand through his sleep-tousled hair. "You're the one who showed up unannounced. It's not like I'm naked."

"Whatever," she said, silently hoping that Lucius had a similar physique. While the idea of sex with Draco nearly made her laugh, she had to admit he looked like her ideal.

Katie summoned a plain white t-shirt and shoved it into his hands. With a sigh, he pulled it on over his head and Hermione settled into the armchair closest to Katie.

"Fine. Now that my nipples are covered—"

Slapping him, Katie said, "What happened, Hermione?"

"I ran into Lucius yesterday while I was out shopping," Hermione began, hearing the nerves in her own voice, "and we spent the entire day together. It was… Well, we had a good time."

"So what's the problem?" Draco asked. "Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Yes, but…" She trailed off, trying to think of how to phrase what she wanted to say. "The night that he and I went together after the photoshoot… He believes in Seers and prophecies, Draco. And he kissed me—"

"He kissed you?!" Katie interrupted excitedly.

Hermione nodded. "He did, and it was everything I ever could've wanted, but what if—"

"What if he's only kissing you because he thinks he's supposed to?" Draco finished for her. "Granger, as much as my father might believe in or respect real prophecies, I promise you he wouldn't kiss you if he didn't want to."

"But what if he only noticed me because the prophecy put me in his mind?"

Katie looked at her in confusion. "Wasn't that sort of the plan? To get him thinking about you? Seeing you as more than the Muggleborn that Draco knew from school?"

"Yes, but now I'm thinking it was wrong," she lamented, squirming uncomfortably in the armchair. "I don't — I can't let things go any further without him knowing the truth. I just can't. It feels like I've taken away his free will or something."

They all sat in silence, contemplating how to handle the situation.

Turning to face her, Draco said, "Granger, I know why you're feeling this way, and I know you're used to a more straightforward, honest approach, but you've done nothing wrong here. I knew he would be interested in you once he paid attention."

Hermione twisted the hem of her jumper in her hands and chewed her cheek, her nerves getting the better of her. While what Draco said had made sense, she still wanted to come clean with Lucius. She needed to. If their relationship was going to be a real one, she didn't want it to be built on a lie.

And she knew he wasn't just looking to get in her knickers; he could've done that the previous night if he'd really wanted to.

"How do I tell him, Draco? And how angry do you think he'll be?"

Katie squirmed her way off the sofa and moved towards the kitchen. "I'll make some tea."

"Darling, you don't have to. Granger and I can manage," Draco said quickly, one of his hands landing on the small of her back. "Your feet are swollen. Please go put them back up. We'll make the tea."

The tenderness in his voice made Hermione's heart squeeze. Draco truly loved Katie with every ounce of his being, and she found herself longing to be loved that way.

"Draco, I'm going to be swollen until this baby comes. I'm not just going to sit around—"

Silencing her with a kiss, he directed her back to the couch. "I know you're up to no good while I'm nohome, wife — on your feet, going down to see Angelina in Diagon Alley. Don't even try to lie about it. Since I'm here, I'll take care of the tea. Granger will supervise me if you're worried."

Giving in, Katie sighed and sank back down, allowing Draco to grab her ankles and place her feet back on the pillow. "Fine. But don't be upset when I've managed to gain three stone."

"You'll be just as beautiful as you are now," he replied. "But you've barely even gained one. I can tell."

Hermione smiled and linked her arm through Draco's. "You're one of the good ones, you know."

"Who would've guessed?"

With a laugh, she said, "Certainly not me. I would've thought you were a total misogynistic arsehole who wanted nothing but a piece of arm candy to birth your babies."

"Baby," he corrected. "Misogynistic arsehole wizards only have one baby. And then they're done, especially if it's a male."

"Ahhh, of course."

As soon as they crossed the threshold of the kitchen, Draco started filling the kettle. "So, Granger, I'm just going to say it. I don't think you should tell him."

"What? Draco, I have to—"

"I'll talk to him," he said, interrupting. "The whole fake prophecy thing… It was my idea. And while I thought it would be a good laugh to see his face, I should've realised that you wouldn't be comfortable with it. Potter and Pansy… they just egged me on, and I ran with it."

Hermione summoned a tray down from the cupboard over the refrigerator and moved to the cabinet that held mugs. Grabbing three, she set them on the tray with the milk and sugar. Sped along by magic, the kettle whistled and Draco added boiling hot water to each mug.

"I didn't think it would bother me so much," she confessed, busying herself with tea preparation, watching it as it steeped. "But the thought of him believing we were fated for each other when really I just fancied him… It doesn't seem right to me."

"He's not going to understand why you fancy him. If not fate, then why? He's going to want to know," Draco replied. "Just be ready to tell him."

"He'll probably never speak to me again."

Shaking his head, he set a hand on her shoulder. "He hasn't so much as looked at another woman since my mother died, Granger. If he kissed you—"

"That makes this worse!" she cut in, her voice hysterical. "Draco, he opened himself up to me, and it was all because of a lie."

Gripping her shoulder, he forced her to turn and look at him. "Stop beating yourself up. We're going to sort this out, and he'll forgive you. I'll explain everything."

Hermione hugged him, needing the comfort of an embrace. Draco held her to his chest and one of his hands stroked over her curls.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice muffled by his t-shirt. "I just… It was such a good day yesterday, and then I couldn't stop thinking, and I'm panicking."

"Yes, because you've never overthought anything before," he teased. "It's fine. Let's go talk to Katie, and we'll all come up with a plan of attack. I'm sure that father will be coming by to tell me what happened between the two of you anyway."

* * *

"Father?"

Lucius was surprised to hear his son's voice in the middle of the day. He assumed Draco would be at work on a Thursday afternoon, but then his thoughts shifted to Katie. She still had eight weeks before her due date and while it wouldn't be a disaster if the baby arrived now, it would still be stressful for them both.

"Draco?" He called from the den, standing and bracing himself for news.

"Father," Draco greeted him with a smile, and Lucius relaxed. This wasn't about Katie and the baby. "Are you okay?"

"I was going to ask you the same." Lucius sat back down and shifted the parchment he was writing on to the side, discreetly placing a glass paperweight on it to hide what was written on it from his son's eyes. He didn't need Draco to see his dinner plans for Hermione.

"Granger gave me the day off," Draco explained and sat in the wingback chair on the opposite side of the desk. "She's dealing with the French Ministry since she speaks the language."

Lucius glanced at him over the top of his glasses and Draco flipped his hand in the air.

"Yes, you wanted me to learn to speak French, but if you remember you raised a spoiled brat who didn't do anything he didn't want to."

"I remember him well." Lucius settled back in his own chair, "was there a reason for your visit?"

"There is actually," Draco admitted and shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "But I'm not sure how you will react."

Lucius didn't respond, his son's discomfort was somewhat concerning, but he was certain whatever he had to say wasn't nearly as disastrous as he was making it seem.

"It's about Granger."

Lucius' spine stiffened and a shot of adrenaline rushed through him. What did Draco know? Had Hermione told him already?

"And what is it that is concerning you about Ms Granger?" Lucius asked carefully.

"Well," Draco began. "Something… we did something that she's quite concerned about, and wasn't sure how to tell you."

"So she recruited you?"

"Yes, and no." He shifted again and cleared his throat. "It's about the prophecy."

Lucius' mind went into overdrive. The prophecy orb was safely ensconced in his bedchamber, so there was no way she would have known about it. She'd used the facilities down the hallway from the library when she had needed to, but hadn't strayed anywhere else in the Manor — at least as far as he was aware.

"She knows of the prophecy?" Lucius removed his glasses and spoke slowly, "Did you tell her?"

"No, I didn't tell her. I didn't need to. She already knew about it."

"How is that possible?"

"I need you to remain calm, Father, and let me explain."

Lucius nodded and Draco continued.

"A few months back Granger began asking me about you. Nothing overly personal or intrusive, just a few random questions everyday, and I realised her enquiries were more than simple curiosity. So," Draco fidgeted with a loose thread on his jeans. "I asked her what was going on, why she was so curious, and she finally admitted her feelings."

Draco waited for a reaction, but Lucius simply indicated for him to continue.

"So, I told her where you would be. The cafe, your favourite lunch spots. The ice cream shop." Draco shrugged one shoulder. "She did follow you, but was concerned about your reaction if she approached you. So I suggested another way she could perhaps get your attention."

"The prophecy," Lucius whispered and Draco nodded.

"The prophecy. I thought if you were given a push, you would seek her out yourself, and if you did that she would be more comfortable admitting to you how she felt."

"So, the prophecy is…"

"Fake. Pansy was Trelawney, Harry was Smith. Kingsley was the Keeper of the Hall. Granger actually had very little to do with it."

"But she still participated in this ruse to trick me."

"She was against it at first—"

"But she was still involved."

"Father, please understand—"

"No, Draco. I will not simply _understand_. This was a trick. A complete farce. She knew about it and went along with it." His hands fisted the arms of his chair, his knuckles turning white with the force. "And you believed this would be.. what? A hilarious joke to humiliate me?"

"Father, no. Humiliation was the opposite of what I thought. She was overthinking everything and if we hadn't given her a shove, you wouldn't have been given the chance to know her."

Lucius rose from his chair and crossed the room, stopping in front of the window and staring out into the gardens.

The prophecy was fake. It had never been real. He should have known. Malfoys were _not_ prophesied. But he had been stupid enough to believe it. Humiliation may not have been his son's intention, but humiliation was what he felt.

And she had been in on it.

His confusion swamped him. Were her feelings real? Or had she managed to con his son into believing that they were just so she could return the humiliation they both had afforded her as a child?

"This was my idea, not hers. I didn't mean it to humiliate or embarrass you. My intentions were—"

"I don't care what your intentions were!" Lucius spun around and sneered at his son. "You _have_ humiliated me. I have repeatedly explained to you that I had no interest in another woman, and yet you felt the need to push this!"

"But you did enjoy being with her, am I right?"

"That is not the point. You _forced_ this. You never gave her the chance to speak to me, and I never had the chance to tell her I wasn't interested." He paused with his hands on his hips, his fury at his son rising. "This is low, even for a Malfoy. Your mother was the love of my life and her memory isn't something to be sullied or shoved aside. I was content in my life, and I don't know why you and Ms Granger thought you had any business to meddle."

"Mother's memory isn't sullied by this. Granger knows how much you loved her, and she would never want you to forget that. She wasn't meddling, she just wanted you to give her a chance."

"Well, maybe if she had been truthful she would have been granted that chance." Lucius turned back to the window. "You need to leave, Draco."

"Father—"

"Leave, Draco."

In the silence that followed, Lucius expected to hear his sons retreating footsteps, but apparently Draco was unable to follow his request. Lucius glanced over his shoulder, Draco was unmoved, a deep frown in his face.

"I asked you to leave."

"And I will. But you need to think carefully about all of this. Hermione was opposed to this, she only went along with it because we insisted. You might not believe it, but she didn't want to hurt you. She is a good and kind person who believes in forgiveness. And despite what she's been through, what she's put up with in her life, she would never intentionally hurt or upset anyone. Including me. And including you." He headed for the door, pausing to look back once more. "She's more than you deserve, and yet she considers you worth her time. Give her a chance, or don't; the choice is yours. But just know that her feelings are real and the fact she is willing to admit them after everything you — we — did… well, she's more forgiving than _either_ of us deserve."

* * *

A week had gone by since Draco's bombshell and subsequent departure. He'd owled several times in the following days, but Lucius had thrown the parchments straight into the fireplace in anger. Katie had dropped by, and while his old-school manners stopped him from exploding at his pregnant daughter-in-law, he was less than polite.

He'd also received owls from Hermione. He'd refused to read them, but he'd also not been able to throw them away. However, after a few days they'd stopped arriving, and he honestly didn't know what was worse; the rolls of parchment on his desk meant she was at least thinking about him. Her silence was like a stone in his heart.

He had been trying to go back to his days of hating her. Had tried to push her out of his mind. Out of his heart. But it has been an almost impossible task. Just like in the weeks before he kissed her, she was everywhere.

A day after he learned of the ruse, he found the little card that had allowed him onto the train. He'd stared at it for an hour — remembering her skirt riding up on her thigh, her finger curled into the belt loop on his trousers, the way his kiss had left her breathless — then tossed it angrily into the desk drawer, slamming it closed and believing that would be the end of it.

However, he'd been wrong.

The Muggle clothes she helped him purchase stood out like a beacon in his dressing room. The magazine Draco had left him, the one with the pictures of them all, sat on the hallway table outside his den.

And the library had been an unbearable reminder of her. He'd not been near it since he'd closed the doors, hiding the room from his view. The image of her reclined on the leather sofa was too much. The image he'd pictured of her the day she visited — her legs spread, allowing him to feast on her while she read some kind of filthy erotica — played on a loop in his mind, and he'd not been able to shut it off.

Sighing, he turned from the window and sat behind the desk. He'd spent most of his days in the den, shut away from everything, except the owls that had landed on the sill. He had eaten his meals at his desk, had moved to the wingback armchair to drink more cognac than he should have, had slept on the sofa when he was too drunk to Apparate to his room.

He had done the same after Narcissa's death.

He picked up the small, circular frame that held her picture. She was currently glaring at him — the picture was too small for her voice to be heard, but he could imagine what she was thinking.

She wouldn't be jealous; he knew that for sure. It had been a conversation they'd had when they'd deserted to the Order. Neither was to languish in despair over the other should the worst happen. Neither was to get lost in the memory of the other and forget to live. They had promised to continue on, to live proudly in the knowledge they had seen the errors of their ways and had helped bring down a monster.

But she was angry at him because he'd not lived up to those promises.

"Sorry," whispered, and her face softened. "I've let you down."

She held her hand up and he touched the tip of his finger to the small picture.

"I thought my heart would belong only to you, my love, despite those promises we made."

She touched the place over her heart and nodded her head, and he understood what she was saying. His heart had moved on, and she was letting him know she wasn't upset or angry with him because of it.

"I was content. I didn't want to move on." He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find the words he needed. How did he explain his feelings for a new woman to the one woman he had expected to love until the day he died?

When he opened his eyes, Narcissa was smiling her sweet smile, and he saw her mouth the words, _tell me._

"Hermione Granger has stolen my heart, Narcissa. She wasn't supposed to, but she has done what I had assumed was impossible. To give my heart to someone else felt like a betrayal to you, it's why I've remained loyal."

_Oh, Lucius_ , Narcissa mouthed. _You promised you wouldn't._

"How could I not? How could I give up my one true love?" He sighed, "But it would appear that I have. And it would appear that I have let my pride get the better of me."

She shot him a look that said, _oh really?_

Lucius huffed a laugh; his pride had been the cause of most of his wrongdoings his entire life.

"But it was all a lie. Our son was the instigator, but she played along. And now I don't know what's real."

_You do know._ Narcissa touched her heart again then pointed at him. _Your heart knows._

He nodded; she was right. Of course she was. He tapped his chest, "You will always be in here."

Narcissa smiled and pressed a kiss to her fingers, then held them up towards him, mouthing the words, _Go to her. Go to her and tell her._


	5. Chapter 5

"Lucius? What are you—"

"I believe there's something we need to discuss."

Not waiting for an invite, he pushed past her, walking determinedly down the short hallway as she gaped in shock.

Hermione had not seen him in more than a week. Draco had explained his reaction to their ruse, and unhappy may have been an understatement.

She closed the door and took a steadying breath before following his path. He was standing in the middle of her small living room, his expression completely blank, not giving her any indication as to what he was thinking.

"Lucius, I'm sor—" she began nervously, but he cut her off.

"Do not apologise, Ms Granger, unless you mean it."

He unfastened the clip at his throat and shrugged his robe from his shoulders, tossing it unceremoniously onto the armchair. Hermione was surprised to find him dressed in the Muggle clothes they had purchased in London — the dark denim jeans he had loved, and the royal blue cashmere jumper that made his eyes bluer than the tropical oceans.

"I do mean it. I'm sorry."

"Why did you think you needed to concoct a blatant lie to speak to me?"

"I doubted you would even give me the time of day. I couldn't fathom a situation where you would consider me something more than a passing distraction in the street."

"So you thought a false prophecy was the best option?"

"Draco—"

"I'm not asking about my _son_ ," he spat. "I'm asking about _you_. Why you thought it a good plan to lie to me."

Hermione swallowed. She wasn't sure just how much information Draco had revealed. Katie told her Draco and Lucius had a heated argument, but hadn't told her much more than that.

_No more lies,_ she told herself. _Come clean._

"The plan wasn't to lie to you. It was to see if you…" She paused, staring directly at him.

This was a mess. Everything had gone awry and she hated that he now thought even less of her. A Mudblood _and_ a liar. Everything she had hoped for, she had ruined of her own accord. She had no one else to blame. Draco and Katie, and Harry and Pansy had helped, but they weren't to blame. This was all on her. She went along with the ruse when she should have stopped it. It wasn't funny — not anymore. Feelings had been hurt and those feelings weren't hers.

"My feelings for you aren't what they used to be," she finally admitted. "Since I started working with Draco, I've been watching you. You're no longer the man who hated me or my kind. In fact, you seem indifferent to the whole magical world. And Draco isn't stupid, he realised how I felt when I kept asking about you. And instead of speaking to you, he — we — came up with a stupid plan to get to you talk to me. And believe me, if I had a Time-Turner, I would go back and stop it from happening."

He didn't respond, just continued to stare at her, and it took everything she had to not squirm under his gaze.

"I should have spoken to you," she said. "I shouldn't have allowed them all to convince me that a lie was the best option. I should have… done a lot of things differently."

"Yes, Ms Granger. You should have."

"I'm sorry," she repeated, her hopes of him forgiving her slipping away. "I never meant to hurt you. It was immature and unfair and incredibly thoughtless."

"It might have been somewhat deserved," he answered. "I've not treated you kindly in the past."

"No, it was not at all deserved." She dropped her eyes and shook her head. "You treated me the way you did because you were raised to believe I was beneath you. I don't believe you think that way anymore, and I should have been more considerate."

"Is it true?" Lucius' shoulders relaxed a little. "The way you feel?"

She didn't look at him when she replied. "You know it's true."

"Ms Granger. Hermione. Will you please look at me?"

She raised her eyes to meet his and was met with a much softer expression. A smile tilted his mouth and his eyes were somehow brighter with the knowledge of what she had just admitted.

"I never took you for someone who needed a ruse to speak. You've always been forward, no matter who you encounter, and I have to admit I'm caught between wanting to know more about why you thought it necessary and devouring you right here."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "W-what?"

"I have become quite fond of you, Hermione, over these last few weeks, and my romantic interest in you has grown. You are unlike anyone I've ever known—" he moved closer "—and for you to partake in such an ill-advised ploy to win my affection is something I just cannot fathom."

"So you didn't just come here to admonish me?"

"No. I came here to admit my own feelings. But I needed to hear the words from you, and not my son, before I could truly believe yours to be real."

"My feelings were never a ruse, Lucius."

"How long?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know exactly, but I've been watching you from afar for longer than you know."

He moved closer still and curled his hand around her jaw, his eyes intense as he took her in. "You are a surprise, Hermione Granger. What could you possibly want with someone like me?"

"Like your son, you have become a different man." She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch as his thumb brushed slowly over her cheek. "And I see the difference. You've been humbled. You've suffered a loss, and because of that, you see the world through different eyes. You've been given a second chance and you're making the most of it."

Hermione opened her eyes, breathing slow in an attempt to calm her racing pulse. A flicker of indecision furrowed his brow, a momentary hesitation that stumbled her heart and had her wrapping her arms around him, pulling him closer.

"Lucius?"

He chuckled softly, bending down to nuzzle into her hair. "Just making the most of it," he murmured.

The softness of his breath on her skin raised goosebumps along her spine, and the fluttery feeling she always got when she was near him filled her chest.

"I don't wish to take liberties with you, Hermione. You must be sure of this."

"You're not taking liberties, Lucius." She lifted the hem of his jumper and slipped her hands underneath, the cotton of his shirt warm from his skin. She didn't want him to hesitate again; she was absolutely sure of what she wanted.

She tilted her head to look up at him and her heart picked up again, pounding against her ribs. The scent of his cologne was subtle, deep and masculine, earthy and comforting, and the closeness of him was making her feel a little drunk.

His eyes wandered across her face, taking in every feature. His tongue peeked out to wet his lips, and her eyes dropped down to watch. He was going to kiss her. And she was going to kiss him back.

Very slowly, he threaded his fingers through her crazy mass of curls then bent to meet her as she rose up on her toes, his lips parting with a shaky exhale. Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as his lips slid over hers, kissing her slowly, sweetly. It was nothing like the way he had kissed in the hallway, but she felt the lust swirling just below the surface.

Tugging the tail of his shirt from his jeans, she dug her fingers into the edges of his spine, and he groaned into her mouth. She pressed herself harder against the solid wall of his chest, sweeping her tongue into his mouth, her own relief almost consuming her. This was what she'd wanted, what she'd dreamed of.

His lips on hers, soft and hard, demanding and giving.

His scent permeating her senses.

His groans allowing her the pleasure of knowing this was what he wanted too.

He pulled her bottom lip between his, huffing a breath at her tiny moan, then asked, "Is your fireplace connected to the Floo network?"

Hermione nodded in response and he reached for his robe, retrieving his wand and waving it at the hearth. A fire roared to life, blocking the network, and with another wand flick, the furniture shifted back and a soft rug appeared under their feet.

"Here?" she asked in surprise. She assumed he would want to be in a bedroom, with the door closed. He had promised her a proper and dignified courting, and sex in the living room wasn't something would ever have associated with him.

"Here," he confirmed. "I want to see you right here. In the firelight."

Her chest clenched. The way he spoke — so simply, so plainly — left her breathless. He was standing before her, _asking_ for what he wanted, the brilliant blue of his eyes telling her the lie that was the prophecy was gone and what was left was real.

"I will court you in the proper, gentlemanly way, but right now—" his fingers gripped the hem of her t-shirt, tugging it upwards "—I want only to be completely lost inside you."

She raised her arms, and he was momentarily blocked from her view as he pulled the fabric over her head. His gasp was one of shock. She'd expected to be spending the evening alone; there was no need for the confines of a bra.

"Good gods," he whispered.

"Sorry, I wasn't expecting company."

He kissed her again — a quiet, reverent kiss that contrasted greatly with the fire in his eyes.

"This is your home, Hermione. You must be comfortable in it." He dragged his fingers over the upper curve of her breast. "Even if that means dressing down."

"And you're a guest in my home, Lucius. I want you to be comfortable as well."

He helped her remove his jumper, then she went to work on unbuttoning his shirt. She bit her lip when his chest was revealed, and her hopes of him having passed his sculptured genes onto Draco had come true. A copy of the shirtless display she'd seen in her friend's home was now before her.

And this time she could touch.

He was beautiful. There was really no other word for it; his entire torso was a study in perfection. Harsh and smooth, filthy, heart-stopping, and made for sex. Her fingers traced over scars marring his smooth skin, a suggestion of what he had been through while his home had been occupied. Twisted stories that were pushed into the past and whispered only behind closed doors.

She felt the steady thump of his heart as she covered his chest with her palm, felt his shudder when she skimmed the flat of his stomach. Her core clenched when she traced the V of his hip to tease the hair on his navel, before straying lower.

"I should have helped you change in the shop." She kissed the middle of his chest, her hand coasting over the decidedly hard and deliciously thick bulge in his jeans. "I've wanted to see you like this."

"Naked, you mean?"

She giggled. "Yeah, very naked."

"And what do you suppose would have happened if you _had_ assisted me?"

"I believe the shop assistants would have had to turn the music up to drown us out."

His shirt drifted to the floor and he pulled her against him. "Hmm, are you saying you're loud, Ms Granger?"

Tangling her fingers in his hair, she pulled him down to her. "There's only one way to find out, Mr Malfoy."

"Oh, Ms Granger, by the time I'm finished with you, the neighbours will know my name."

He bit at her mouth, nipped along her jaw, before burying his face against her throat with low groan. And for the first time in her short life, she felt the heady rush of pure, unadulterated lust. A bloom of heat spread through her, settling in her core with a throbbing ache. She was hot and wet, and only getting hotter and wetter as his tongue floated over her thumping pulse.

She heard his inhale, felt his chest expand as his lungs filled, and she became hyper-aware of all her senses.

The touch of his hands on her bare back.  
The fresh, clean aroma of his skin.  
The sound of his low groans against her ear.  
The taste of his tongue against hers.  
The sight of the lust in his eyes.

This was suddenly so much more intimate than she could have dared to imagine. There was no question regarding her want to be with him, to have him over her, inside of her. She only knew that if he didn't take her jeans off soon, she would burst into flames.

Her brain seemed to short-circuit, and before she could process what she was saying, "Lucius, _please_ ," escaped her throat.

"Please?" he murmured. "What would _please_ you?"

"I need…"

"Tell me what you need, darling." He kissed her shoulder, his breath a huff of warmth over her skin. "I'll give you anything."

She fumbled with his belt. "This. I want this."

He chuckled and stepped back, holding her wrists in his hands. "I'll give you this," he assured her. "But I have my own request."

"Anything," she breathed.

"I have a great desire to put my mouth between your thighs and taste you, Hermione. Will you allow me to?"

She thought she would melt.

There hadn't been many men, but not one of them had asked her permission.

She nodded and wrenched her hands free. His eyes followed as she unfastened the button on her jeans, as she lowered the zipper, as she shimmied out of them and kicked them aside. He stopped her, however, when she began to remove her knickers.

"Lie down, my darling. Let me reveal you myself."

She sunk down to the soft rug and he followed, kneeling at her feet and gently prising her knees apart. He leaned over her, holding his weight on his forearms.

"I thought you were—"

His mouth covered hers, stopping her words. And, _oh_ , the feeling of him over her, between her legs where he was pressing urgently against the damp satin still covering her sex. She understood immediately; he was wound as tightly as she was. He'd just hidden it better.

It had been years for him. He'd been on his own since the end of the war, and she knew that he hadn't been with anyone. She had to assume he'd not gone without — his hands were huge, after all — but his sudden desperation was crystal clear; he needed release. And needed it with her.

Groaning, he thrust his hips against her, the hard line of him still hidden behind denim. Denim that was causing a heavy friction between her thighs, sliding the satin into her own wetness.

And, stars above, it felt so good.

Her hands clutched at him as his thrusts became hurried and even more desperate. His kisses became frenzied; his mouth on hers, sucking on her tongue, his teeth bared against her neck, her shoulder, his lips sucking bruises into the skin at the base of her throat.

She was spinning. He wasn't even inside her yet and it was already too much. She felt like she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't do anything but feel the exquisite pleasure that sparked with every pass of his denim-clad cock over her clit.

His breathing picked up, and his words were scattered. "You feel… under me… _oh, fuck!"_

He lifted his hips off her, and his hand fumbled between them. The clink of his belt, the sound of his zipper, the low groan as he took himself in hand brought her back from her haze. He braced one hand beside her shoulder and she lifted her head to watch as his other hand flew over his cock, pulling his orgasm to the edge, then spilling it onto her belly.

Hermione didn't have time to think. Lucius immediately shifted down, pulling her knickers from her body and dropping down to cover her with his mouth. He traced every part of her, tasting, sucking, his tongue teasing like he'd done this to her a million times before. He knew. Somehow he knew her.

He spread her with his fingers, the pad of his thumb sliding back and forth over her clit, while his tongue slipped inside her. Her hips rose to meet him, rocking in time with the strokes of his tongue.

"Lucius…" she started, her voice catching on a heavy gasp.

He hummed into her wet skin, circling his thumb and licking up with his tongue. She reached for him, finding his free hand, needing him to anchor her; she was fearful she would simply float away. He squeezed her hand, his mouth and thumb not hesitating in their joint task.

Her thighs began to shake, her body clenched, and her breath caught in her throat. She arched sharply from the floor, her orgasm hitting her with a sudden, violent force, trembling through her body. She slumped to the floor, her hand blindly finding his head, her fingers sliding into his hair.

He glanced up at her, a wicked smile on his face.

"Ms Granger, you weren't nearly loud enough."

* * *

Allowing her a moment to regain her senses, Lucius stood and fully removed his jeans, tossing them aside. As soon as he was completely naked, he dropped back down and ran his mouth along her thigh, his tongue and teeth teasing her from knee to hip before mirroring his ministrations on the other side. He knew she had more to give and he planned on taking all her pleasure.

Pressing his palms to her inner thighs, he decided to see how she reacted to instruction. "Spread your legs wider, darling. Let me see all of you."

Even though she didn't reply verbally, her body complied, her legs fully dropping to the side. As a reward, he gave an open-mouthed, sucking kiss to her clit, making her hips jerk off the floor and pulling a choked moan from her throat.

"Hands on the blanket beside you," he said, his arm banding across her hips to hold her down. Again, she silently followed his order, and he smirked against her skin. It had been too long since he'd had a witch in his thrall, hungry and desperate for release that only he could give her. "Now, hold still."

His tongue ghosted over the length of her slit, dipping into her entrance to taste the renewed arousal flowing from her and then sliding up to her clit, making her try to rise up, to prolong the contact.

"Don't be greedy. You'll get what you need in time, darling," Lucius cooed. "But, for now, do what I say and lie still."

With his free hand, he slipped a finger inside her cunt and then his tongue rubbed roughly at her clit.

"Lucius," she breathed, her voice filled with need. "More."

"Hmmmm," he hummed, adding a second finger and sucking her swollen bud between his lips. The vibration made her cry out louder and, once again, she tried to buck, not used to being under order to keep still. He pressed down harder, keeping her arse flush with the ground. He crooked his fingers inside of her and rubbed.

"Oh gods!" she screamed, the sensation overtaking her.

He continued licking and sucking, collecting every bit of wetness that seeped out around his fingers, already addicted to the taste of her.

When she started to tremble, he immediately stopped, leaving her on the edge of the precipice. She cried out in frustration as he blew a stream of hot breath over her needy flesh.

"Did you need something?" he asked, teasing her with the gentlest of touches and smiling when she managed to stay still. "Ms Granger, answer me."

She whined, but she didn't speak.

Pinching her clit between his thumb and forefinger, he said, "Tell me what you want."

"Lucius, I want you. I need you to…" She trailed off as he released the pressure.

When he looked up at her, he saw her fingers toying with her nipple and groaned. The peak of her breast wasn't the same pink as before. No, now it was red and hard and he couldn't resist it. He surged up, forgetting all about teasing her until she was a puddle on the floor, and sucked the reddened flesh into his mouth.

"Fuck!" she screamed, arching her pelvis into his.

He'd forgotten that he'd come on her stomach and his spend smeared between their bodies, but he didn't care. He moved from one breast to the other, ravaging both with teeth and tongue while she squirmed beneath him. Hermione's hands had moved back into his hair, holding him to her chest, and he wondered if he could make her come from nipple stimulation alone.

A thought for another day.

Reaching up, he grabbed her hands, wrapping his large hands around her delicate wrists and tugging. He shifted further up her body and met her eyes.

"I have another request," he stated, and she gifted him with her full attention. "I find myself rather… overwhelmed by your touch. And I do like to be in control during sex."

Hermione nodded, listening intently.

"I'd very much like to hold you down, but I can understand how that might be uncomfortable for you," Lucius said.

"It's fine," she replied, her eyes filled with lust. "Do what you want. Take whatever you want. I'll tell you to stop if something isn't okay."

Lucius lost control.

Immediately, he moved to kneeling between her thighs. He draped her legs — her long, shapely legs — over his shoulders and leaned forward, thanking Merlin she was flexible. Sliding inside of her, he groaned and she moaned at the stretch. Hermione extended her arms above her head, and he reached forward, lacing his fingers through hers to anchor himself.

And then he snapped his hips. Hard.

"Ahhh!" Hermione moaned, pressing up against his palms as he held her in place.

He did it again, testing her, and she looked up at him, eyes blazing.

A few more thrusts and she was trying to find leverage, trying to find a way to increase their pace, but she was completely restrained by his body alone.

Lucius looked down with each swivel and snap of his hips, watching her tits bounce and his cock disappear within her.

"More," she gasped. "Lucius, fuck, more!"

"More?" he asked, speeding up and making her moan. "How much more, darling?"

"Harder," she whined, surprising him. "I want to feel you for days."

Lucius chuckled. "I don't think you realise," he began, releasing her wrists and sitting back on his haunches, flipping her over so she was on her hands and knees before him. He leaned forward, pressing his cock inside of her and his chest against her back. "If you feel me for days, it will be because I'm fucking you for days."

And then he pulled her up so they were both kneeling, her legs bracketing his, and wrapped his arms around her tightly, one of his hands toying with her breast.

"But I'll oblige. Are you ready, Ms Granger?"

Her head dropped back against his shoulder and she flexed her thighs, tentatively moving.

"Has anyone ever had you this way? From behind like this?"

"No," she breathed, her voice trembling.

Lucius was pleased that he'd be the first. He murmured a spell and conjured a mirror beside the fireplace, desperate to see her face. Their eyes met in the glass and she arched as much as she could, fully displaying her tits for him.

"Watch," he commanded. "Watch me while I fuck you."

She nodded, signalling that she would.

"Arms back, around my neck," he told her, slowly starting to move, keeping his eyes on the mirror.

Immediately, her arms raised and tipped back, her fingers threading into his hair.

"Good," he praised, his fingers toying with her nipple as he rocked his hips.

Her stance widened, dropping her lower, allowing him to sink just a little bit deeper, and he groaned, turning to kiss her neck. When he nibbled the column of her throat, she started panting, fisting her hands in his hair.

"Do you like that?" He bit her a little harder. "My teeth against your skin? Bruising it?"

"Yes," Hermione moaned. "Gods, Lucius, look at us."

His eyes snapped back to the mirror and his free hand snaked down her abdomen to the apex of her thighs. As he watched her reactions in the mirror, his fingers rubbed gently at her clit. Her eyes fluttered shut and her movements stuttered, switching from being in sync with his hips to desperately rubbing against his fingers.

"Ahhh, that's what you like best?" he teased, making sure his breath brushed against her ear. "You like how my fingers feel?"

"All of it," she screamed, eyes still locked on the mirror. His fingers sped up and he felt her clenching around him. "Lucius!"

He moved faster, his hand and hips moving in tandem. Her body pulled tight and then started to slacken. After a hard pinch to her nipple, he released her breast and wrapped his arm around her more tightly, holding her up so he could pleasure her further. Her cunt was still rippling around him, and she was nearly sobbing in relief.

Honestly, after almost a decade of celibacy, Lucius was happy that he still had it, that he could make a woman half his age come this hard.

Sweat trickled down his back, down her neck. Her hands left his hair to grip his forearm, the one that was banded tightly around her ribs.

"Lucius," she cried again. "Fuck, I need to move."

"What do you want, Hermione?"

"Let me go," she pleaded, and he released her, his hands falling away.

Immediately, she leaned forward and he slid out of her. Her thighs were quaking, but she kept her arse in the air, even as she braced her forearms on the blanket. She was presented to him, her pussy grasping for something that wasn't there. Tilting her head up, she said, "Are you going to fuck me or what?"

He didn't need to be asked twice.

Grabbing her hips, he slammed back into her, watching his cock disappear into her body. She moved with him, arching and pressing back, meeting every thrust. Her arse was perfection, especially when it met his hips. Moving a hand, he grabbed a handful of it and she hissed. Testing her again, he gave her a slap and her cunt clenched.

"Oh, you're a surprise," he said, leaning forward and running his tongue along her spine. Grabbing a fistful of her curls, he tipped her head back and met her eyes in the mirror. "Are you enjoying this?" He thrust hard, jolting her forward. "Do you like it when I'm rough with you?"

She was spasming again, her mouth gaping. He could see her breasts swaying in time to his thrusts. Her eyes nearly rolled back, and she came again, shaking with pleasure.

Slowing, he let her recuperate, watching her face. When her eyes fluttered open, she said, "I've never… Not like that. Gods, Lucius, I—"

Her voice cracked.

"Shhh, darling," he soothed, a hand stroking up and down her back. "We'll talk after. Are you okay? Do you need to switch positions?"

Hermione nodded and he pulled out, looking to her for direction now.

"Lie on your back, Lucius," she said quietly.

He positioned himself on the blanket and she crawled towards him, looking more alluring than he had even imagined.

However, much to his shock, she didn't straddle him. Instead, she moved between his legs and licked along his shaft, one of her hands cupping his balls.

"Hermione," he groaned, a harsh sound. "Oh, fuck."

"Is this okay?" she asked, her lips gently closing around his tip.

Rather than speaking, he thrust up the tiniest amount, and she smiled around him, sinking down further. Her tongue teased him, the tip flicking along as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked. His hands threaded into her hair, holding on while she swallowed around him, taking him deeper.

"Shite," he said as he felt her throat muscles around his head. "Holy fuck."

She squeezed his sac and felt his release drawing nearer.

And then her mouth was gone and she was peering up at him, the most endearing flush on her cheeks.

"How would you like to finish?" Her hand wrapped around him, twisting and stroking.

Even though she'd taken control, she was giving him the choice, and he felt his heart swell.

She understood him.

"I want to come inside you," Lucius replied. "Whether your mouth or your cunt, I really don't care."

"Mmmm," she hummed, acting like she was thinking about it. "I think I want to taste you. Are you close?"

"So fucking close."

Her lips encased him again, her head bobbing fast with her hands still occupied, one around the base of his cock and the other fondling his balls. She was lavishing attention on him, making him feel like the most powerful man in the world, especially since he hadn't even had to ask.

His cock swelled, nerves sparking along his length, her tongue setting them alight and his spine tingled. And she must have been able to sense his climax; she started sucking and swallowing, waiting for his seed.

Trying to control himself, he fisted the blanket on either side of his hips, even though he longed to hold her head in place while he came. With another stroke of her hand and flick of her tongue, his eyes squeezed shut and his hips jerked up. She captured every drop, licking him clean.

When he'd regained his senses, he pulled her up his body, cradling her against his chest and kissing her. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and she willingly parted her lips, letting out a gentle moan.

"So good," he praised. "I need to know where you learned your tricks."

Hermione laughed in his arms. "I'll never tell."

"Oh, darling, I'm sure I can find a way to make you spill your secrets," he said, his teeth grazing her pulsepoint.

She countered by sliding her hand over his half-hard cock.

"Lucius, if I told you, I'd have to kill you," she teased.

Kissing her again, he flipped them over, settling between her thighs. "After today, I think it's likely you'll do that anyway, Ms Granger."


	6. Chapter 6

**~ A YEAR LATER ~**

* * *

Hermione exited the Floo, tired and tense, and more than a little irritable. Her day had been exceedingly long and all she wished for was the quiet of her little home. She'd sent an owl to Lucius — when she realised her shift would be much longer than expected — explaining she would be late and that he please leave her be tonight. She wouldn't be much company anyway; she only wanted to sleep.

Blocking the Floo behind her, she Apparated upstairs, stripping to her underwear and not caring that her clothes were left in a pile on the floor — a testament to her exhaustion. She slipped under the covers, curling them around her into a cocoon, melting into the mattress, and was asleep before she could process one more thought.

Lucius watched her from the doorway, smiling to himself. She'd not even noticed him sitting in the corner of the living room, but he knew by the slump in her shoulders exactly how exhausted she was. He'd become accustomed to it, her long hours, her dedication, but it still gnawed at him that she felt she had to prove herself every day. She was a brilliant healer, and everyone knew it. But he was still trying to convince her to believe it herself.

He undressed quietly, folding his clothes neatly on the chair before retrieving hers from the floor and doing the same. He would insist that his elves do her laundry the next day, because his plans for her day off didn't include watching her work herself into an exhausted mess again.

* * *

Hermione woke to a warm body wrapped around her. His arms were wound around her tightly, his legs spooned with hers. She didn't think anything felt as good as waking up like this — even if he'd ignored her request to be alone.

It was a rare night they were apart; the occasional overnight shift at St Mungo's, was the only time they weren't together at night. Any business trips he had were organised around her days off so she could travel with him. She'd seen the world with him, and he had taken her to places that she had only ever dreamed about. Angkor Wat in Cambodia, Mayan temples in South America, a villa in Santorini where he had told her clothes were optional…

She loved seeing the world with him, but this, right here in the quiet hours of the morning, was what she loved most. His easy breaths, the way he held her, the warmth of him. She would give up the world just to ensure she had these moments with him.

"Why are you awake so early?" He murmured into her neck.

"Why are you in my bed when I asked to be alone?"

A rumble of laughter vibrated against her neck. "You're aware of my inability to take instruction."

"Hmm," she hummed in agreement, running her palm along his forearm that was braced around her. "Thank you for not listening."

"Anytime." He began to press kisses along her shoulder. "I like you first thing in the morning. Soft and warm, and pliant…"

Hermione sighed. "Don't start anything, Lucius. I have too much to do today."

"Your day has been taken care of," he said, slipping his hand down her body to feel the warmth already building between her thighs. "You have nothing to do but let me enjoy you."

Her protest quickly turned into a low moan as he slipped his fingers lower, drawing her wetness along her slit.

"Lucius…"

"Yes, darling?"

"I don't… _oh_ … have time… _oh, fuck_!"

His fingers parted her folds and bared her clit, toying with the tiny bud, and she knew he would get his way.

"You have all the time in the word today, darling. Lift your leg over mine."

Complying with his request, she lifted her leg and curled her foot behind his calf, spreading herself wide.

His fingers dipped lower again, teasing at her entrance. Missing the friction on her clit, Hermione reached down, sliding her hand beneath his, her fingers taking over the motion he'd begun. Her breath caught and another low moan broke from her throat when he slipped two fingers inside her, immediately began pumping.

Her pleasure rose steadily; he knew how to work her body like no one else, coaxing and teasing, drawing her into a haze of lust in just seconds. More sounds spilled out of her and her eyes fluttered closed. Her hips began to rock into his hand. He pressed harder, encouraging her with quiet murmurs against her ear. And just like that, she was trembling, her thighs shaking, her body turning to liquid.

"Lucius," she groaned and turned her head to him. His mouth was on hers, ready for her, waiting for her, knowing she was about to fall. Her leg dropped, trapping his hand — _their_ hands — between her thighs. Moaning into his mouth, her body tightened, a sharp shudder pressed her arse into his own arousal, and she fell.

She heard his voice from a distance, a quiet murmur of _Gods I love watching you,_ felt his fingers slide slowly out of her body, hummed at the press of his lips on her shoulder.

"How do you do that?" Her voice was raspy, her throat dry from sleep and orgasm.

"I'm a selfish bastard and love seeing your pleasure. I do it only for myself."

Hermione laughed and turned in his arms, his cock full and heavy against her hip. Her hand slipped between them, but he pulled away.

"I have plans for you today, and we don't have time for that."

She arched an eyebrow. "But _you_ had time for me?"

He kissed the tip of her nose. "I always have time for you."

He stood and held his hand out to her. Hermione grinned, watching his cock twitch.

"But you're okay?"

He glanced down. "Maybe not, but a shower is in order… you could always help me out in there."

* * *

Hermione was astounded when the blindfold was lifted. Lucius had insisted she wear it before they left by Portkey to a secret location.

He had refused to tell her what he had planned, only that his house-elves would take care of her laundry and cleaning and all the monotonous things her day would have included.

And now she was glad she had agreed.

They were in Spain, standing in the garden outside the _Biblioteca Nacional de España_ — the national library and the first place he had ever taken her.

"Lucius, what—"

"We have the library to ourselves for an hour. We should make the most of it."

He offered her his arm and she took it gladly, fearful she would faint. An hour? On their own? She refused to think about what he had paid for the privilege.

"Manuscripts?" he asked, knowing full well that she had spent hours pouring over the collection on their previous visit.

She nodded numbly, unable to coherently form words and allowed him to lead her through the front doors. He spoke with a man just inside the door, his Spanish flawless, and she made a mental note to ask him to speak to her in Spanish later.

They continued on, Lucius knowing without direction where they were headed. Their footsteps were loud in the empty building, and her automatic response to walk on her toes to quiet the sound made him laugh.

"No one will reprimand you, darling. I have ensured we will be left alone."

"You know how crazy you are, don't you?" she whispered.

"Why is this crazy?" he countered. "And why are you whispering?"

"We're in a library," she hissed. "We have to be quiet. And you're crazy because I don't need an entire national library to myself."

"Oh, if I had known _that_ , I wouldn't have bothered," he teased, then winked at her. "Enjoy this, darling. I may not be able to afford to do it again."

She slapped his arm, "Lucius, how much—"

"A generous donation." He kissed her temple. "And it's not of your concern."

She huffed in response, knowing better than to argue. He had told her that the more she fought against his spoiling her, the more he would do it. And the grander the gestures would be.

"Fine," she relented. "But when you're destitute and living in a box on the streets, don't blame me."

"I wouldn't dream of it, darling." He kissed her again. "And I believe we have arrived at our destination."

* * *

Lucius watched as she wandered around the room. She was still tip-toeing which made him chuckle, and he knew he had come to the right decision.

He reached into the expanded pocket inside his jacket, drawing out the sea-green orb. The small glass ball may not have been real, but everything it had led him to was.

"Hermione?"

She turned to face him, frowning slightly when she noted the orb in his hand.

"Are you donating that as well?" she asked. "Because it's not really of any significance, and it certainly isn't verified."

"That's where you're wrong, darling. This little orb is of the highest significance." He held the orb up, the smoky haze still floated within its depths. "There was a prophecy, one that related to a man of _pureblood with angelic guise_." His mouth twitched at her giggle; angelic guise had been her one contribution to the ruse. "This prophecy also stated that a certain woman with common blood would bring light to this world."

"This prophecy sounds a little over the top," Hermione said. "I mean, she must be some woman to be able to do that."

"She is a woman like no other." Lucius touched her cheek. "This prophecy also said that he would fall to his knees in reverence of her."

He dropped to one knee and Hermione gasped.

"Oh my god, Lucius! What are you doing?"

"The prophecy was true. You brought light to this world, to my world. I didn't think it possible to love again, but you took away the darkness and opened my mind and my heart." He held up a ring; the exact ring she had been looking at in the antique jewellery shop in London the last time they were there. "Marry me, Hermione. Marry me and let me worship you for the rest of my days."

Her _yes_ was little more than a choked sob, her voice sticking in her throat. Lucius' face lit up at her response, all his nerves disappearing in an instant. He slid the ring on her finger and before he could stand, she dropped to her knees and flung her arms around him.

"Yes." Her voice was louder, the single word an absolute surety, and Lucius closed his eyes in relief.

 _Yes_.

"You brought light to this word, my darling," he whispered against her ear. "And now you have brought light into my heart."

Hermione pulled back to look at him, a teary smile on her face. She pressed her palm over his heart, "There was always light inside you, Lucius. It just needed some encouragement to shine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY 
> 
> TRIDOGMOM
> 
> xx WE LOVE YOU xx
> 
> smithandbarrowman  
> PotionChemist


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